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THE  LIBRARY 

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THE 


Galax  Gatherers 


THE  GOSPEL  AMONG  THE 
HIGHLANDERS 


BY 


EDWARD  O.    GUERRANT 

Belvoir,   Wilniore 
Jessamine  County,  Kentucky 


Edited  by  His  Daug^hter,  Grace 


PUBLISHED  BY  ONWARD  PRESS 
RICHMOND.  VIRGINIA 


COPYRIGHT  1910 
BY  EDWARD  O.  GUERRANT 


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WHOSE  I  AM.   AND 
WHOM  I  SERVE  " 


A  FOREWORD 


This  is  not  a  Novel,  which  its  name  might  suggest,  but 
the  truth,  which  is  sometimes  "stranger  than  fiction." 

These  are  real  people  and  places,  and  not  figments  of 
the  imagination. 

The  partiality  of  friends  is  largely  responsible  for  the 
publication  of  these  random  notes,  written  while  travel- 
ling and  preaching  through  the  mountains. 

They  were  not  written  for  pleasure  or  profit,  but  for 
the  Glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  His  long-neglected 
children  in  the  Highlands.  Both  objects  are  worthy  of  a 
better  advocate. 

Dr.  Dabney  said  of  these  Highlanders,  "They  are  the 
most  distinctly  American  stock  on  the  continent." 

And  Dr.  Talmage  recently  said,  "The  inhabitants  of 
the  mountains  are  the  last  of  earth's  children  who  shall 
yield  their  hearts  to  the  conquering  march  of  Christ." 
"Win  the  Highlanders  for  Christ  and  you  win  the  world 
for  Christ." 

No  nobler  object  could  engage  our  hand  and  heart. 
That  you  may  share  in  this  great  work  and  its  glorious 
reward  is  our  humble  prayer. 

Our  thanks  are  (kie  to  Drs.  Lill\-,  McCorkle,  Patton 
and  Bryan,  and  Professor  Gordon  and  Mrs.  Mary  Hoge 


VI  A  FOREWORD 

VVardlaw,  Mrs.  Judd  and  Mrs.  Wells  for  their  contribu- 
tions. 

But  especially  to  my  companion  and  amanuensis,  my 
daughter,  whose  faithful  help  made  the  work  possible,  I 
owe  more  than  I  can  repay. 

Commending  these  simple  annals  of  the  Highlanders 
to  God  and  His  children  who  love  Him  and  their  fellow- 
men,  I  am  sincerely, 

Your  fellow  servant. 

Edward  O.  Guerrant. 


CONTENTS 

Page 
Frontispiece. 

Introduction     VII 

Tlie  Galax  Gatlierers 1 

Glencairn    6 

In  the  Mountains  of  Old  Virginia 9 

In  the  North  Carolina  Alleghanies 15 

On  the  Estatoa 19 

The    Scotch-Irish 24 

Dan  Mcintosh 27 

Dedication  on  Haddix  Fork 30 

A  Highland  Wedding 33 

From  the  Big  Black  Mountain 36 

The  Ivy  Patch 42 

From    Hazard 46 

From  the  Troublesome 49 

A  Trip   Up   the  Big  Sandy 54 

One    Woman 57 

A  Little  Visit  to  Turkey  Creek 59 

A  Visit  to   Raven   Roost 62 

On  the  Shoulder  Blade 65 

Proctor  Bill 68 

Chenowee   (Dr.  J.  D.  Patton) 73 

On    the    Upper    Quicksand 76 

Elkatawa    83 

Panther  Ridge 86 

The  House  that  God  Built 91 

The   Church   on   the   Grapevine 94 

Preaching  to  the   Poor 98 

Coming  to  Christ  Barefooted 102 

V^isit   to    Cataloochee 104 

In    the    Great    Smoky    Mountains 109 

At    Ebenezer 113 

Bear  Creek 117 


VIII  CONTENTS 

Page 

Mormons  in  the  Mountains 119 

Satan  and  the  Mormons 129 

Missions  on  the  Canoe 132 

Dedication  of  the  Church  on  the  Canoe 136 

On    the    Canoe 140 

The  Regions  Beyond 144 

Puncheon  Camp 147 

Twenty  Years  After 150 

Bloody    Breatliitt 152 

Highland  College 156 

A  Red   Letter  Day 157 

To  the  Children  of  the  City 161 

The  Orphans  Home    (Dr.  D.  Clay  Lilly) 162 

Feed   My   Lambs 166 

Two  Highland  Funerals   (Mrs.  Mary  O'Rear  Everett) 171 

A  Tour  Through   the   Cumberlands 175 

Glen  Athol   (Mrs.  Mary  Hoge  Wardlaw) 179 

A    Unique    Contest 184 

A  Word  from  Prof.  Gordon 186 

Pentecost  at  Puncheon  Camp   (Rev.  J  A.  Bryan) 189 

A  Girl's  Trip  in  the  Far  Cumberlands 191 

On  the  Grapevine   (Grace  Guerrant) 195 

To  Big  Creek  (Grace  Guerrant) 199 

Jett's    Creek 202 

The  Lucky  Thirteen 205 

From  the  Lost  Creek 208 

A  Teacher's  Letter 212 


INTRODUCTION 

REV.  DR.  W.  W.  MOORE, 

Union  Theological  Seminary^  Richmond^  Va. 


Some  years  ago,  wishing  a  practical  article  of  a  certain 
type  for  one  of  the  issues  of  the  Union  Seminary 
Magazine,  I  requested  Dr.  Guerrant  to  furnish  it.  He 
wrote  me  in  reply  that  it  had  not  been  his  specific  mis- 
sion to  write  the  Gospel  but  to  preach  it,  and  seemed  to 
imply  that  he  had  no  special  skill  with  the  pen.  For 
love  of  his  alma  mater,  however,  he  granted  my  request 
and  sent  the  article  desired.  The  readers  of  that  article 
and  of  the  various  articles  descriptive  of  his  evangelistic 
tours  in  the  mountains,  which  have  appeared  from  time 
to  time  in  our  church  papers,  do  not  need  to  be  told 
that  he  was  quite  too  modest  in  his  estimate  of  his  gifts 
in  this  way,  and  that  his  style  as  a  writer  is  no  less  indi- 
vidual and  striking  and  effective  than  his  style  as  a 
speaker,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal,  as  all  know  who 
have  heard  him  preach.  The  same  underestimate  of  his 
gifts  with  the  pen  would  have  prevented  him  from  ever 
publishing  in  more  permanent  form  what  he  calls  "these 
little  field  notes  concerning  the  mountain  work,"  and 
it  is  only  to  the  filial  admiration  of  his  devoted  ama- 
nuensis and  coworker  that  we  are  indebted  for  the 
appearance  of  this  volume.  The  author  gave  his  con- 
sent only  when  assured  by  her  and  by  others  who  knew 
their  value  that  the  publication  of  these  wayside  notes 
would  help  the  cause  for  which  they  were  written  and 


X  INTRODUCTION 

thus  glorify  God  in  promoting  the  education  and  salva- 
tion of  those  long  neglected  Highlanders  whom  he  so 
earnestly  desires  to  help  to  a  better  life  on  earth  and  a 
better  home  beyond  it. 

There  are  some  men  who  have  never  given  a  minute's 
study  to  the  technique  of  authorship,  but  who  know 
how  to  write,  as  a  bird  knows  how  to  fly.  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  himself  a  carefully-trained  author,  writing 
to  Dr.  John  Brown  of  the  fame  he  had  won  and  the 
friends  he  had  made  by  the  apparently  effortless  produc- 
tion of  that  English  classic,  Rob  and  His  Friends,  says : 

"Ye  scarce  deserved  it,  I'm  afraid — 
You  that  had  never  learned  the  trade, 
But  just  some  idle  mornin'  strayed 
Into  the  schule. 
An'  picked  the  fiddle  up  and  played 
Like  Neil  himsel'. 

Your  e'e  was  gleg,  your  fingers  dink ; 

Ye  didnae  fash  yersel'  to  think. 
But  wove,  as  fast  as  puss  can  link, 
Your  denty  wab  : — 
Ye  stapped  your  pen  into  the  ink. 
An'  there  was  Rab." 

So  with  Dr.  Guerrant.  He  stapped  his  pen  into  the 
ink,  and  there  was  the  American  Highlander, — with  his 
little  cabin  and  his  large  family,  his  hard  poverty  and 
his  deep  ignorance,  his  spiritual  destitution  and  his 
eager  response  to  the  preaching  of  the  pure  gospel. 
These  quick,  short,  unstudied  sketches  bring  before  us 
the  region  and  the  people  with  a  vividness  that  any 
professional  writer  who  ponders  over  his  phrases  and 


INTRODUCTION  XI 

carefully  polishes  his  periods  might  envy.  No  waste  of 
words — no  beating  about  the  bush — no  leisurely  ap- 
proach— swift  and  straight  he  goes  to  the  heart  of  his 
subject.  The  opening  of  Tom  Sawyer  is  not  more 
abrupt  or  eflfective  than  that  of  the  sketch  entitled  Bear 
Creek.  Yet  there  is  a  poetic  vein  in  him  which  ever 
and  anon  crops  to  the  surface  as  he  revels  in  the  beauty 
of  God's  world,  as  where  he  speaks  of  "the  great  moun- 
tain with  its  autumnal  dress  of  crimson  and  purple  and 
gold,  and  its  rich,  dark  mantle  of  balsams  around  its 
giant  shoulders."  And  there  is  a  quaint  humor  that 
twinkles  in  the  most  unexpected  places,  as  where  he 
says  of  a  remote  and  forlorn  settlement,  "We  felt  lone- 
some here.  But  the  Lord  had  promised  to  go  with  us 
'to  the  end  of  the  world,'  and  as  we  had  reached  that 
place,  we  claimed  that  promise." 

As  Sir  Walter  Scott  by  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  and 
Rob  Roy  made  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  known  to  the 
world  and  turned  an  endless  stream  of  tourists  through 
those  romantic  regions,  so  Dr.  Guerrant,  by  these 
sketches,  has  helped  to  give  to  the  world  a  true  knowl- 
edge of  this  vastly  greater  and  wilder  Appalachian 
region  with  its  four  millions  of  untutored  and  un- 
Christianized  people,  and  has  done  more  than  any  liv- 
ing man  to  turn  a  saving  stream  of  evangelists  and 
teachers  into  its  remote  and  needy  recesses.  He  has 
been  in  turn  Soldier,  Doctor  and  Evangelist, — these 
three, — but  the  greatest  of  these  is  Evangelist.  His 
heart  has  responded  to  the  sore  need  of  this  vast  region, 
as  large  as  the  German  Empire,  and  practically  without 
churches,  Sabbath  schools,  or  qualified  teachers.  He 
has  recognized  clearly  that  this  Home  Mission  work  is 


XII  INTRODUCTION 

the  paramount  obligation  resting  upon  our  people.  He 
has  himself  for  twenty-five  years  labored  there  as  his 
other  duties  have  allowed  him  opportunity.  Seeing  that 
he  and  all  the  colaborers  he  could  secure  from  his  own 
church  were  quite  inadequate  to  the  stupendous  task  of 
giving  the  blessings  of  education  and  religion  to  this 
great  territory,  he  called  upon  all  other  Christian  people 
to  help.  And  the  real  significance  of  this  volume  to  the 
Christian  conscience  is  that  it  is  throughout  a  reitera- 
tion of  that  call.  For,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  been 
done,  the  field  is  yet  almost  untouched ;  there  are  many 
thousands  yet  unreached  ;  and  as  Dr.  Guerrant  says,  "the 
question  is  not  whether  they  can  be  saved  without  the 
Gospel  but  whether  we  can  be  saved  if  we  do  not  give  it 
to  them." 


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The  Galax  Gatherers 


Probably  Solomon,  who  said  there  was  "nothing  new 
under  the  sun,"  was  acquainted  with  the  Galax  Gather- 
ers, but  I  must  confess  they  were  new  to  me,  until  I 
went  to  the  North  Carolina  Alleghanies.  A  word  about 
this  interesting  people  may  not  be  unwelcome. 

On  my  way  to  their  lofty  mountains,  I  stopped  to 
see  Rev.  R.  F.  King,  our  faithful  Evangelist  in  the  hill 
country  of  East  Tennessee.  Leaving  the  railroad  at 
Piny  Flats,  in  Sullivan  County,  I  was  driven  several 
miles  over  the  green  hills  to  White's  Store,  where  I 
expected  to  preach  in  a  large  school-house  at  Rocky 
Spring.  Brother  King  was  awaiting  my  coming,  and 
clever  Mr.  Burkey  gave  me  a  nice  home  and  a  Ten- 
nessee welcome ;  I  could  wish  no  better. 

This  region  lies  in  the  "forks"  of  the  Holston  and 
Watauga  Rivers,  and  though  nothing  but  rocks  and 
hills,  it  is  picturesque.  The  people,  though  mostly  in 
humble  circumstances,  are  thrifty  and  industrious.  Mr. 
Burkey  told  me  he  handles  some  ten  thousand  chickens 
a  year,  eggs  without  number,  and  a  considerable  quan- 
tity of  walnut-kernels.  This  industry  was  also  new 
to  me. 

The  congregations  soon  crowded  the  spacious  school- 
house,  and  though  quite  unwell,  I  managed  to  preach 
morning  and  night  for  ten  days,  omitting  one  day,  and 
sitting  down  to  preach  one  day,  when  too  weak  to  stand. 
The  weather  was  very  hot,  but  the  patient  people  came 


^  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

in  crowds.  One  day  Mr.  King  took  me  down  deeper 
into  the  Fork,  to  Deer  Lick,  where  I  preached  to  a 
school-house  crowded  with  a  deeply  interested  people. 
After  the  sermon  nearly  every  one  came  up  to  confess 
the  Savior.  Another  day  we  went  even  beyond  the 
school-house — to  Smokey — and  preached  in  the  open 
woods,  beneath  the  great  oaks,  to  a  large  crowd,  seated 
on  the  rocks,  on  boards  and  on  the  ground.  Here  again 
God  touched  many  hearts,  and  they  confessed  the 
Savior  with  tearful  joy.  It  was  good  to  be  there,  in 
such  good  company,  with  God  and  His  poor  children. 
These  are  some  of  Brother  King's  many  preaching 
points.  On  Sabbath  morning,  I  preached  the  last  time 
at  Rocky  Spring,  to  a  large  congregation.  At  the  close, 
twenty-five  young  girls  and  women  came  forward  and 
publicly  confessed  the  Savior.  It  was  a  strange  and 
beautiful  sight,  the  like  of  which  I  had  never  seen. 
There  was  not  a  single  man  or  boy  among  the  number. 

While  the  Gospel  is  freely  ofifered  to  all,  the  majority 
of  the  saved  will  be  girls  and  women,  as  far  as  T  have 
observed. 

I  was  glad  to  learn  that  a  benevolent  man  (Col.  Gregg) 
had  left  $6,000.00  to  build  a  nice  brick  church  here  for 
these  poor,  but  worthy,  people.  I  was  sorry  to  leave 
them,  but  remembered  there  was  One  who  will  never 
leave.  That  Sunday  night  I  went  to  Brother  King's 
home  and  preached  at  the  old  church,  "New  Bethel," 
founded  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago.  It  is  a 
large  church,  and  was  crowded  to  the  doors,  with  a  fine 
congregation.  I  expected  it,  after  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years  of  training  in  the  Confession,  the  Cate- 
chisms, and  sanctified  with  the  memory  of  the  Doaks, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.        3 

the  Kings,  the  Hodges,  the  Bachmans,  and  other  mighty 
men  of  God,  who  have  here  proclaimed  the  Gospel.  It 
was  an  honor  to  preach  in  that  pulpit. 

But  I  must  go  on  to  the  Galax  Gatherers,  before  you 
get  impatient.  Leaving  Brother  King,  doing  the  work 
of  two  men,  in  a  big  Missionary  field,  I  crossed  the 
rapid  Watauga,  at  DeVault's  Ford,  Sunday  night,  and 
rested  there  half  a  day.  That  evening  found  me  in 
Johnson  City,  and  Tuesday  morning  on  the  new  rail- 
road, through  Unicoi  County,  and  up  the  Nolachucky 
River,  into  North  Carolina,  On  the  train  I  met  Brother 
Cochrane  and  his  family,  from  Bristol,  going  to  rest 
awhile  at  Unaka  Springs.  I  only  wished  I  had  time 
to  rest  awhile  myself.  But  Cecil  John  Rhodes  said 
"So  much  to  do,  so  little  done,"  and  I  went  on.  We 
will  rest  in  Heaven. 

East  Tennessee,  the  Switzerland  of  America,  is  beau- 
tiful :  with  its  emerald  hills  and  quiet  vales,  and  lofty 
mountains  and  limpid  streams.  If  one  had  nothing  to 
do  but  enjoy  himself,  I  don't  know  a  better  place,  in 
summer. 

Some  thirty  miles  brought  us  to  the  Gorge,  where  the 
Nolachucky  cuts  its  way  for  twelve  miles  through  the 
great  Unaka  Mountain,  of  solid  rock,  some  five  hundred 
feet  high.  It  surpasses  the  gorges  of  the  New  River 
and  the  French  Broad,  and  is  longer  than  the  Canon 
of  the  Arkansas  through  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  is 
awfully  grand.  The  building  of  the  railroad  here  is  a 
triumph  of  skill  and  hard  work.  Emerging  from  the 
Gorge,  we  are  in  Mitchell  County,  North  Carolina,  on 
the  beautiful  Estatoa  River  (here  called  the  'Toe).  This 
is  the  same  riv^r  as  the  Nolachucky,  but  whcu  it  passes 


4  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

into  Tennessee  it  changes  its  name.  At  Green  Moun- 
tain, the  present  terminus  of  the  road,  clever  Mr.  Bow- 
ditch  met  me  with  a  saddle  horse  and,  we  rode  and 
walked  some  seven  or  eight  miles  up  a  rough  road  along 
the  rapid  river  to  the  school-house,  where  our  Mission- 
ary, Miss  Elizabeth  McPherson,  is  teaching  some  sixty 
bright  mountain  boys  and  girls.  Here  Brother  Harris, 
the  Bishop  of  the  Estatoa,  met  me  and  helped  me  faith- 
fully for  a  week.  Though  quite  unwell,  I  preached 
twice  a  day,  for  several  days,  to  a  large  school-house 
crowded.  This  is  called  ''Loafer's  Glory,"  but  I  am 
glad  the  loafers  have  departed,  and  the  glory  of  moun- 
tain and  valley  still  remain.  It  is  indeed  a  grand  coun- 
try. Even  the  deep  valleys  are  2,400  feet  above  the 
outside  world,  and  the  old  Roan  Mountain  looks  down 
from  its  throne,  6,334  feet  up  in  the  sky.  More  than 
twenty  years  ago  I  preached  on  that  mountain  top,  the 
first  sermon  and  perhaps  the  last.  How  time  flies,  and 
the  mountains  remain,  hoary  with  the  passing  centuries, 
and  still  unchanged  and  godlike. 

One  day  I  had  the  pleasure  of  a  ride  over  Gouge's 
Hill  to  Bakerville,  the  county  seat.  It  is  a  clean,  quiet 
little  village  of  nice  homes  around  the  court-house,  and 
Gudger's  hotel,  an  ideal  summer  resort,  when  the  rail- 
road comes. 

On  Sunday  morning.  Brother  Hiuddleston,  of  the 
Methodist  Church,  filled  his  appointment  at  the  school- 
house,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  an  earnest  ser- 
mon. I  preached  at  night,  and  again  Monday  morning 
and  night,  when  sixteen  men  and  women  came  forward 
and  confessed  Christ  and  gave  their  names  to  Brother 
Harris  to  organize  a  church.     Some  others  had  joined 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders,        5 

before,  for  all  of  which  we  thanked  God.  Mr.  Bowditch 
g-ave  a  beautiful  site  for  the  church,  and  the  generous 
people  subscribed  over  $300.00  to  build  the  first  church 
there  in  that  cozy  mountain  hamlet.  Those  who  know 
Brother  Harris  will  expect  it  to  be  dedicated  in  a  few 
months. 

Being  too  weak  to  preach  longer,  I  reluctantly  bade 
good-bye  to  clever  John  Stewart,  my  good  host,  and  his 
kind  family  and  friends,  and  turned  my  face  towards 
my  home  beyond  the  Cumberlands.  But  I  will  not  go, 
before  I  add  a  postscript  and  tell  you  who  the  Galax 
Gatherers  are. 

This  is  their  native  country,  and  the  galax  is  a  wild 
foliage  plant  which  grows  on  the  bleak  sides  and  sum- 
mits of  the  big  mountains  of  North  Carolina.  It  has  a 
rich  green  color  in  the  summer,  which  deepens  into  a 
splendid  bronze  as  the  winter  approaches.  These  leaves 
(about  the  size  of  a  colt's  foot)  are  used  in  the  homes 
of  the  rich  people  in  the  cities  for  decoration.  During 
the  fall  and  winter,  the  poor  people  find  employment 
and  small  compensation  in  gathering  the  leaves  and  sell- 
ing them,  at  from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  cents  a  thousand. 
It  is  a  hard  way  to  make  a  living,  especially  when  snow 
and  ice  cover  the  mountains,  and  when  the  leaves  are 
most  valuable.  Probably  none  who  enjoy  their  gor- 
geous foliage  in  a  stately  mansion  ever  know  what  labor 
and  sacrifice  and  suffering  these  leaves  cost  the  poor 
Highlanders. 

But  there  are  compensations  in  all  things.  They  live 
in  God's  royal  presence  on  the  great  mountains,  where 
red  blood,   and   ruddy   cheeks,   and   sinewy   limbs   are 


6  Galax  Gatheeees,  and 

made,  and  pure  thoughts  and  noble  impulses  and  high 
aspirations  are  born. 

The  Lord  of  glory  Himself  was  born,  and  lived  and 
died,  among  the  Galax  Gatherers  of  the  holy  mountains 
beyond  the  seas.  It  is  a  privilege  and  pleasure  to  preach 
to  them  the  same  sweet  old  story  He  first  preached  on 
the  mountains  of  Galilee,  and  last  preached  on  the  sacred 
mountain  at  Jerusalem. 

This  is  the  mission  of  the  Soul  Winner  Society,  whose 
seventy  missionaries  are  carrying  this  blessed  evangel  to 
thousands  of  humble  homes  in  the  Alleghanies  and  Cum- 
berlands. 


GLENCAIRN. 

This  is  a  little  mountain  hamlet  in  the  most  romantic 
Cumberlands.  I  guess  some  Scotchman  named  it, 
though  most  anybody  could  have  put  the  Glen  and 
Cairn  together  in  a  name,  as  God  had  done  in  nature. 
It  is  a  wild  and  beautiful  cleft  among  the  old  sandstone 
mountains,  just  wide  enough  for  a  little,  clear  stream, 
and  some  small,  humble  cabins  between  the  beetling 
rocks. 

The  mountains  were  covered  with  their  gaudiest  dress 
of  crimson  and  gold,  as  if  for  a  feast  instead  of  a  funeral. 
The  white  shroud  of  winter  will  soon  replace  this  gorge- 
ous gown  of  the  autumn ;  and  this  fact  took  me  there  to 
see  two  noble  women,  who  are  working  in  our  mission. 
We  knew  they  had  lived  through  the  summer  in  an  open 
ranch,  which  would  not  turn  the  snows  or  storms  of 
winter.    They  did  not  complain,  but  counted  it  all  joy 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.        7 

to  endure  hardships  for  Him,  who  endured  death  on  the 
cross  for  them. 

There  is  no  church  in  the  country;  and  when  I 
preached  there  the  little  school-house  of  the  Soul  Win- 
ners' Mission  could  not  hold  the  people,  so  we  adjourned 
to  a  saw-mill  shed,  half  a  mile  away,  and  it  was  filled 
with  eager  listeners,  who  stood  a  storm  which  beat  in 
upon  them  from  the  unprotected  sides  of  the  big  shed. 
They  were  the  same  "common  people"  who  heard  the 
Savior  gladly  on  the  mountains  of  Galilee. 

In  front  of  the  Httle  cabin  of  our  missionaries  stood  a 
lofty  cliff,  over  five  hundred  feet  high,  where  many  birds 
of  prey  built  their  safe  eyries.  Behind  the  cabin,  a  tall 
mountain  shut  out  the  view.  The  forest  enclosed  it  on 
either  side,  so  that  the  only  open  view  was  up  toward 
God  and  heaven.  It  was  well  that  they  could  see  that 
way,  for  all  their  hope  and  help  must  come  from  Him. 
Lizzette,  the  younger,  a  graduate  of  Converse  College 
(that  noble  school  for  girls  in  South  Carolina),  walked 
for  miles  between  the  clififs  and  over  the  mountains,  to 
conduct  a  mission-school,  alone,  and  visit  the  sick,  and 
carry  the  "glad  tidings"  to  many  humble  homes  along 
the  narrow  valleys.  One  month  she  walked  over  a  hun- 
dred miles — there  was  no  road  to  ride  on,  and  no  horse 
to  ride.      His  "jewels"  are  gathered  in  such  glens. 

Her  aunt,  a  most  accomplished  woman,  who  spent 
years  in  the  easier  Spanish  missions,  taugiit  her  school 
nearby.  The  little  school-house  was  just  big  enough  to 
hold  two  dozen  children — as  bright  and  pretty  as  any  I 
ever  saw.  Led  by  Birdo,  they  romped  up  and  down  the 
glen  as  free  as  the  air,  and  as  gentle  as  the  fawns  of 
their  native  hills.      No   such   teacher  as   Mrs.  T.   had 


8  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

ever  been  in  that  wild  glen,  and  all  Glencairn  loved  and 
honored  her  and  Miss  Lizzette  for  their  self-denying 
labors  of  love. 

The  approaching  winter  sent  Miss  Lizzette  to  her  far- 
off  Southern  home  in  Texas,  but  her  elder  sister  came 
and  took  her  place,  as  companion  and  helper  to  her 
aunt.  I  knew  that  they  could  not  endure  a  Kentucky 
winter  in  the  open  cabin,  so  I  went  to  see  what  could 
be  done  for  their  comfort.  I  was  glad  to  find  that  an 
open-handed  and  big-hearted  mountaineer,  who  had  two 
cabins,  had  turned  one  of  them  over  to  our  missionaries, 
free  of  rent.  Of  course  it  was  a  poor  home  for  such 
women  who  had  been  reared  in  luxury.  It  had  no 
ceiling,  no  fire-place,  no  carpet,  no  mattress,  no  paper- 
ing— only  naked  walls  of  unhewn  boards  and  a  bed- 
stead. Miss  Lizzette  had  made.  But  they  did  not  com- 
plain, but  set  about  fixing  it  up  to  keep  from  freezing. 
Miss  Annie  had  turned  a  corner  into  a  wardrobe  with 
some  rough  planks  and  bought  some  muslin  to  cover 
the  bare  walls.  Some  noble  women  at  home  promised 
to  send  them  a  carpet  for  their  room  and  something  to 
cover  the  spare-room,  where  the  little  school  will  "run" 
all  winter.  I  am  sure  the  Lord,  who  clothes  the  lilies 
and  feeds  the  ravens,  will  not  forget  His  faithful  children 
at  Glencairn,  or  anywhere  else. 

I  have  told  you  this  simple  story,  to  show  you  and 
others,  that  God  still  has  a  people  who  love  Him  and 
His  poor  children,  and  who  are  glad  to  endure  hard- 
ness for  Him  who  endured  the  cross  for  them.  The 
martyr-spirit  still  lives  in  hearts,  even  in  timid  women. 
We  have  many  such  noble  women  in  these  great  moun- 
tains, teaching  the  way  of  life  to  hundreds  of  the  poor, 


Miss  KivERs'  School  in  Patrick  County,  Va. 
Threk  Years'  Growth 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlandees.        9 

but  grateful,  children  of  the  hills.  One  I  know,  who 
has  never  seen  a  church  since  she  went  into  the  mission 
field,  now  almost  three  years  ago.  Their  reward  is  in 
heaven.     Have  you  a  part  in  this  noble  work? 

"There  comes  a  time  in  the  future  near, 

When  this  life  has  passed  away. 
When  these  needy  ones  will  stand  with  me 

In  the  light  of  the  Judgment  Day. 
When  the  angel  reads  from  the  book  of  life. 

My  deeds  for  that  great  review. 
If  the  Lord  should  speak  and  accuse  me  there, 

I  wonder  what  I  should  do  ? 

The  Son  of  Man,  with  his  angels  fair, 

Will  sit  on  the  great  white  throne ; 
And  out  of  the  millions  gathered  there. 

He  will  know  and  claim  His  own. 
If  he  says  to  me  those  words  I've  read 

In  that  Book  so  old  and  true, 
'Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  these,' 

I  wonder  what  I  should  do?" 

Settle  that  great  question  now,  so  He  may  say  to  you : 
"Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom 
prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world ;  for 
I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty 
and  ye  gave  me  drink ;  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye  took  me 
in ;  I  was  naked  and  ye  clothed  me." 


A  WEEK  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  OLD 

VIRGINIA. 

By  the  kindness  of  some  of  my  ministerial  brethren, 
I  was  permitted  to  preach  a  week  recently  in  the  mining- 


10  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

camp  on  Tom's  Creek,  in  Wise  County,  Virginia. — Some 
account  of  that  interesting  field  may  not  be  without  its 
lessons  to  those  unacquainted  with  their  neighbors. 

I  left  my  home  on  Tuesday,  October  3d,  and  pass- 
ing through  the  Cumberland  Mountains  at  Middlesboro, 
arrived  on  the  second  day,  at  Norton,  Virginia,  above 
Big  Stone  Gap.  Here  I  was  met  by  Rev.  F.  E.  Rog- 
ers, the  evangelist  in  charge  of  this  field. 

If  you  don't  know  how  a  pelican  of  the  wilderness 
feels,  go  as  an  evangelist  to  the  mountains,  one  hun- 
dred miles  beyond  all  who  know  and  love  you.     I  need 

not  say  we  were  glad  to  see  each  other.  "Sheep  among 
wolves"  need  no  introduction.  But  I  was  not  quite  so 
much  a  stranger  as  I  thought,  when  a  bright  young  fel- 
low walked  up  and  shook  hands  with  me  and  said  his 
name  was  Reese  Bowen,  son  of  Col.  Tom  Bowen  and 
Augusta  Stuart,  and  grandson  of  Gen.  Reese  Bowen, 
of  Tazewell  County,  Virginia.  Some  twenty  years  ago, 
when  he  was  a  lad,  I  preached  his  little  sister's  funeral 
at  his  grandfather's  old  home,  at  Maiden  Spring,  Vir- 
ginia. I  was  surprised  and  gratified  that  he  remem- 
bered me.  I  guess  heaven  will  be  full  of  such  glad  sur- 
prises. After  dinner,  Brother  Rogers  and  I  set  out  for 
Tom's  Creek,  twelve  miles  farther  down  the  Norfolk  and 
Western  Railroad,  among  the  red  mountains  of  old  Vir- 
ginia. 

If  you  were  never  in  a  coal-mining  camp,  you  will 
have  to  go  there,  for  a  description  of  the  dust  and  smoke 
from  two  hundred  and  fifty  coke-ovens,  and  of  the  noises 
from  engines  and  cars,  and  dinkeys  and  larreys,  and  tip- 
ples, and  men  and  horses,  and  mules,  and  three  thousand 
people  of  all  colors  (white  is  not  a  color)  and  sizes  and 


Sketches  or  the  American-  Highlanders.      11 

tongues.  The  little  and  big  houses  were  scattered  for 
two  miles  in  the  narrow  valley  and  along  the  mountain 
sides  along  Tom's  Creek,  which  is  the  name  for  a  river 
of  black  coal-dust.  We  were  fortunate  enough  to  get 
our  room  at  one  house,  and  our  meals  at  another;  one 
of  Dr.  Barr's  flock,  who  has  wandered  away  into  these 
mountains. 

There  is  not  a  church  here  (for  three  thousand  people), 
and  no  place  to  preach,  except  under  a  chestnut  tree,  or 
in  a  little  school-house.  We  took  the  school-house,  only 
because  we  couldn't  warm  the  other  place.  It  was  half 
a  mile  of  railroad  tracks,  and  cars,  and  locomotives,  up 
to  the  school-house,  but  many  of  the  people  came  farth- 
er, and  we  did  not  complain,  or  get  killed.  Some  thirty 
came  out  the  first  night,  but  they  gradually  filled  up  the 
little  school-house,  though  many  had  never  learned  to 
go  to  church,  for  want  of  opportunity.  The  religious 
destitution  was  pitiful.  In  twenty-two  families,  I  vis- 
ited one  day,  I  found  only  about  a  dozen  persons  who 
had  ever  belonged  to  any  church.  They  received  me 
kindly  in  their  humble  homes,  for  most  of  them  were 
Virginians.  Indeed,  of  the  fifteen  hundred  men  there  at 
work,  only  some  thirty  are  foreigners  (Hungarians). 

Brother  Rogers  worked  faithfully  under  the  greatest 
disadvantages.  The  men  were  at  work  from  7  A.  M.  to 
6  P.  M.  in  the  mines  and  ovens,  and  digging  and  haul- 
ing, and  building  two  hundred  and  fifty  new  coke-ovens. 
Everything  was  in  a  rush,  except  the  church.  Money, 
and  not  souls,  was  the  object  of  all,  but  a  few,  a  rem- 
nant of  Israel  who  had  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal.  A 
little  prayer-meeting  at  9:30  A.  M.,  of  half  a  dozen  good 
women,  held  in  one  of  the  cottages,  helped  us  preach  at 


12  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

night.  The  congregations  and  interest  increased  from 
day  to  day,  in  spite  of  the  dark  nights,  and  the  tired 
bodies  of  the  laborers,  and  the  httle  uncomfortable 
school-house,  without  a  breath  of  ventilation.  Some  of 
the  wandering  sheep  were  gathered  back  into  the  fold, 
the  seed  sown  in  many  a  heart  that  responded  its  accept- 
ance, and  all  the  results  left  with  God,  whose  word  never 
returns  to  Him  void.  The  harvest  will  come  bye  and 
bye.  Pray  for  God's  faithful  laborer  in  this  great  and 
destitute  field ;  he  needs  much  assistance  and  encourage- 
ment, and  I  am  sorry  I  could  not  remain  with  him  a 
month  instead  of  a  week.  A  month's  work  here  would 
doubtless  gather  a  rich  harvest  of  immortal  souls ;  but  a 
place  must  be  provided  for  the  preaching,  and  earnest, 
prayerful  effort  made  to  reach  these  multitudes  of 
neglected  people. 

While  here  I  took  the  opportunity  to  revisit  Glades- 
ville,  the  county  seat  of  Wise  County,  Virginia,  where  I 
joined  the  Confederate  Army,  February,  1862,  thirty- 
seven  years  ago.  I  had  ridden  from  my  home,  in  cen- 
tral Kentucky,  with  a  lot  of  other  boys,  across  the  one 
hundred  miles  of  hostile  mountains  to  the  Southern 
Army.  We  found  the  old  general  in  Gladesville,  a  little, 
mountain  hamlet,  2,300  feet  up  on  the  Cumberland  pla- 
teau, and  there  we  enlisted  for  "three  years,  or  during 
the  war,"  to  fight  for  old  Virginia,  the  land  of  my  fath- 
ers. It  is  eleven  miles  from  Tom's  Creek,  but  a  good 
horse  soon  climbed  the  Guest's  Mountain,  two  miles  up 
to  the  plateau,  and  nine  miles  along  it,  to  the  little  moun- 
tain town.  The  scenery  beggars  description.  Nature 
had  on  her  gayest  autumnal  dress  of  crimson  and  gold, 
and  the  gorgeous  panorama,  painted  by  the  great  Artist, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders,      13 

stretched  away  over  blazing  mountains  and  valleys,  be- 
yond our  utmost  vision.  Only  a  few  houses  and  fields 
of  red  heather  broke  the  solemn  and  awful  monotony 
of  the  wilderness. 

The  last  time  I  passed  this  way,  thirty-five  years  ago, 
I  rode  with  John  Morgan  and  two  thousand  brave  men, 
on  our  last  Kentucky  campaign.  How  changed  the 
scene !     Now,  only  God  and  the  old  mountains  remain. 

A  lone  boy  was  lazily  grinding  sorghum  in  a  nioun- 
tain  dell,  and  reminded  me  that  I  first  tasted  it,  in  this 
very  country,  during  the  war.  It  was  sorghum  or  no 
sweetening  then.  By  lo  A.  M.,  I  reached  the  old  war- 
town  of  Gladesville  I  first  saw  thirty-seven  years  ago. 
Only  two  of  the  houses,  and  not  a  living  soul,  remained 
of  its  war-time  inhabitants.  What  a  lesson  on  this  tran- 
sitory life !  Only  two  houses  and  the  old  hill  remained 
of  the  Gladesville  I  knew.  What  memories  they  awak- 
ened; what  of  good  and  ill,  of  joy  and  sorrow,  of  victory 
and  defeat,  are  crowded  into  those  thirty-seven  years ! 
But  God  was  in  them  all,  and  through  them  all  His  lov- 
ing hand  has  led  me! 

I  need  not  say  I  was  lonesome  in  Gladesville,  though 
the  little  town  was  wonderfully  improved.  A  splendid 
court-house  has  taken  the  place  of  the  old  barn  of  one, 
we  used  as  a  hospital ;  and  many  handsome  homes  have 
taken  the  place  of  the  little  cabins.  But  the  men  and 
places  I  knew  were  gone,  the  army  wagons  and  mules, 
the  cavalry,  and  infantry,  and  artillery,  the  clanging 
sabres  and  spurs,  the  burnished  guns  and  bayonets,  the 
sick  and  wounded  soldiers,  were  all  gone.  Tom  Hay- 
den's  bugle  was  silent;  the  drum  had  sounded  the  last 
tattoo ;  the  camp-fires  were  all  out,  and  the  boys  had 


14  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

struck  their  tents,  and  most  of  them  had  pitched  them 
beyond  the  river  of  death.  I  was  not  happy  in  Glades- 
ville ;  it  was  a  cemetery  to  me,  and  I  did  not  stay  long. 
But  I  found  the  dismantled  old  hotel,  and  the  room 
where  the  general  made  me  a  soldier,  and  begged  a 
piece  of  the  wood  to  take  home,  as  a  memento  of  days 
"sacred  to  the  memory"  of  many  brave  men.  In  the 
room  above,  where  noble  Captain  Hawes  kept  the  money 
to  buy  hard-tack  and  cotton  clothes  for  the  "boys,"  I 
found  these  words  on  the  wall,  in  pencil : 

"Look  and  see  where  you  are  going,  O  soul  of  mine ! 
You  are  travelling  to  eternity,  and  when  thou  art  there, 
will  it  be  in  heaven  or  in  hell !  Be  careful,  O  my  soul, 
for  while  thou  art  in  the  flesh  is  the  time  to  serve  the 
Lord.  Watch,  therefore,  for  in  an  hour  when  we  think 
not  the  Son  of  man  cometh ;  so  beware,  O  my  soul." 

Where  that  traveller  is  now,  only  God  can  tell.  It 
was  probably  written  by  a  soldier,  and  I  hope  he  is  in 
heaven.  But  I  weary  you.  After  dinner,  at  the  hotel 
of  Mr.  Richmond  (grandson  of  General  Richmond,  of 
Lee  County,  Virginia),  with  whose  father  and  uncle  I 
served  in  the  war,  I  took  my  departure, — the  rear-guard 
of  the  grand  army  which  served  under  Marshall,  and 
Williams,  and  Morgan,  and  Breckenridge,  and  Giltner, 
and  Clay,  in  this  part  of  the  Confederacy. 

As  I  passed  over  the  hill,  I  took  a  last  look  at  Old 
Pound  Gap,  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains,  through 
which  we  passed  so  often,  and  the  quiet  village  in  the 
valley,  with  its  thousand  memories  of  the  dead  years, 
and  the  heroic  men  who  people  those  years  in  my  heart; 
I  knew  better  then  what  Byron  meant  when  he  wrote 
5vords  like  these : 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      15 

"I  feel  like  one  who  treads  alone, 
Some  banquet   hall   deserted ; 
Its  flowers  all  dead,  its  lights  all  out, 
And  all  but  me  departed." 

Hoping  to  meet  those  guests  again,  where  they  never 
part,  in  the  land  where  the  light  never  goes  out,  and 
the  flowers  never  die,  I  am  yours  faithfully. 


IN  THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  ALLEGHANIES. 

I  guess  you  do  not  often  get  letters  from  this  altitude, 
— this  "land  of  the  sky," — where  rivers  are  born.  This 
may  give  my  letter  a  chance  to  see  out  into  the  world 
below. 

For  some  years  we  have  had  a  number  of  faithful  mis- 
sionaries (of  the  Inland  Mission)  at  work  in  these  moun- 
tains,— notably,  Rev.  J.  A.  Harris,  and  a  corps  of  lady 
teachers,  as  fine  women  as  ever  ministered  to  the  Lord. 
I  had  intended  making  them  a  visit  in  the  summer,  but 
sickness  prevented,  so  I  had  to  postpone  it  until  now. 

A  long  ride  from  home  brought  me  to  Asheville,  the 
capital  of  Cloudland,  where  I  met  Mr.  John  K.  Coit, 
colporteur  of  Synod. 

On  a  frosty  morning  we  took  passage  in  his  little 
wagon  for  the  high  mountains  of  Yancey  County.  Ten 
miles  down  the  beautiful  French  Broad  River  (the  Indian 
Tockie-Oskie,  or  "Racing  Waters"),  brought  us  to  Bun- 
combe Hall,  at  Alexanders's,  where  Mrs.  Gen.  Robert 
Vance  dispenses  a  generous  hospitality  and  helps  in  a 
little  Sundav  school. 


16  Galax  Gatheeeks,  and 

After  a  good  dinner  for  man  and  beast,  we  left  the 
river  for  the  Big  Ivy,  v^hich  flows  from  the  bosom  of  the 
Big  Craggy  Mountain. 

Our  way  lay  across  a  wilderness  of  hills  and  valleys, 
big  and  little,  the  plateau  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains. 
Evening  brought  us  to  Democrat,  on  the  Big  Ivy  (a  post- 
ofifice  named  when  Qeveland  was  President),  where 
most  of  the  voters  are  un-Democratic.  We  found  a 
good  place  to  sleep,  where  the  waters  roar  over  the  big 
mill-dam: 

Brother  Mac  Davis,  the  Bishop  of  this  Diocese,  who 
lives  five  miles  up  the  Big  Ivy,  caught  us  next  morning 
before  we  got  started  (at  7  o'clock).  He  is  the  man  for 
this  region.  His  new  church  was  to  be  dedicated  on 
Sunday,  and  it  was  a  sorrow  to  me  that  my  engagements 
prevented  me  from  being  with  him.  Such  men  need 
help  and  deserve  it, — deserve  it  more  than  they  need  it. 
He  has  prayed  and  fought  whiskey  out  of  his  parish. 

To-day  our  journey  led  us  through  the  clouds,  from 
Big  Ivy  up  the  Little  Ivy,  a  beautiful  mountain  stream, 
which  we  followed  to  its  source  in  the  mountain.  We 
passed  out  of  Buncombe  County  and  journeyed  through 
Madison  County. 

I  found  the  roads  much  better  than  in  the  Cumber- 
lands,  as  well  as  the  houses  and  farms.  More  land  is 
cleared,  and  it  is  better  cultivated.  It  is  an  older  coun- 
try, and  nearer  the  sources  of  education  and  refinement. 
The  Cumberlanders  are  far  away  from  the  land  of  their 
fathers,  and  on  the  ''wrong  side"  of  the  higher  civiliza- 
tion (which  is  west  of  them). 

At  Democrat  I  was  surprised  to  find  a  canning  fac- 
tory, where  they  were  putting  up  thousands  of  cans  of 


SOUL-WIN NEES'  MISSIONS  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 


1  Elkatawa 


9  Canyon  Falls    17  (ilen  Canon 


2  Canoe  10  Athol 

3  Shoulder  Blade  11  Bear  Creek 

4  Canoe  12  [.ost  Creek 

5  Puncheon  Camp  13  Rousseau 
G  Turner's  Creek  1-1  Laniliric 

7  Crockettsville  15  War  Creek 

8  Buekhorn  16  Jett's  Creek 


18  Smoky 

19  Lick  Creek 

20  liOafcrs'  Glory 

21  J':statoa 

22  Paint  Gap 

23  Mt.  Victory 

24  Ebenezer 


49  Oil  Spring 


25  l?at  Harbor 
2(;  Tampa 

27  Cataloochie 

28  Whit(!sbu]-g 

29  Jackson 

30  Hazard 

31  Pea  Ridge 

32  Happy  Top 

50 


33  Poor  Valley 

34  Tom's  Creek 

35  Paint  Creek 
33  Haddix  Fork 

37  Ivy  Patch 

38  Chenowee 

39  Grape  Vine 

40  Panther  Ridge 
Cliavies 


41  l^ear  Cret 

42  Clay  City 

43  Big  Ivy 

44  Robbiusvi 

45  Haysville 

46  Paint  Roc 

47  Mieaville 

48  Copper  H 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      17 

fresh  peaches,  apples  and  tomatoes.  (The  Cumberlands 
generally  lack  the  peaches,  tomatoes  and  cans.) 

Evening,  and  Mr.  Coit's  North  Carolina  deliberate 
pony  brought  us  to  the  mountain  at  the  Paint  Gap. 
Crossing  this  on  foot,  we  reached  the  head-waters  of  the 
Nolichucky  River,  which  is  about  the  head  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. 

We  are  now  in  Yancey  County.  I  thought  I  had  seen 
some  apples  before,  but  I  was  mistaken.  I  never  saw 
the  like ;  apples  were  everywhere — big,  little,  red,  brown, 
yellow  and  black  apples.  The  trees  were  covered  and 
the  ground,  too.  Every  day  processions  of  wagons 
passed  up  the  creek  and  over  the  mountains,  going  to 
Asheville,  and  even  as  far  as  South  Carolina,  with  apples. 
I  would  call  Yancey  County  the  apple-orchard  of  the 
South.  They  are  too  common  to  taste  good ;  yet  they 
said  it  was  only  half  a  crop.  It  is  hard  for  an  out- 
sider to  believe,  but  he  knows  something  of  God's  bounty 
and  man's  imagination. 

Like  all  mountain  people,  they  are  generous  to  a  fault. 
I  had  apples  till  I  didn't  want  any  more. 

In  many  respects  the  people  resemble  the  Cumber- 
landers.  They  are  about  the  same  size  and  shape,  speak 
the  same  language,  though  not  so  "easily  provoked," 
and  do  not  fight  on  as  small  a  provocation.  They  are 
pure  Anglo-Saxons  and  Scotch-Irish,  with  no  foreign 
adulteration.  Tliey  are  better  farmers  and  give  their 
women  less  work  in  the  field;  even  in  the  "fodder  sea- 
son" I  saw  few  at  work  pulling  fodder,  though  this  im- 
portant industry  calls  for  dispatch. 

At  clever  William  Penland's  we  found  our  first  moun- 
tain mission  teacher,  Miss  Nellie  Rogers,  and  soon  Rev. 


18  Galax  Gatherees,  aitd 

J.  A.  Harris,  of  Micaville,  one  of  the  pioneer  Soul  Win- 
ners here,  joined  us.  It  was  Saturday  evening-,  but  as 
we  had  no  time  to  lose,  I  preached  that  night  in  the 
little  school-house  on  Indian  Creek,  and  slept  well  after 
my  thirty  miles'  ride.  I  would  recommend  this  treat- 
ment for  insomnia.  Sunday  dawned  clear  and  crisp 
(generally  crisp  up  here  around  Mt.  Mitchell),  and  a 
good  crowd  of  people  walked  over  mountains  and  val- 
leys to  the  new,  unfinished  church  on  Horton's  Hill; 
very  few  rode.  The  clever  people  who  had  built  the 
church  were  unable  to  put  doors,  or  windows,  or  floor, 
or  ceiling,  or  stove  in  it,  but  planks  served  for  seats,  and 
zeal  for  a  stove,  so  we  got  along  very  well  until  the 
north  wind  blew,  when  we  had  to  plank  up  the  windows, 
and  wish  for  summer. 

God,  who  is  no  respector  of  houses,  came  to  visit  His 
humble  children  of  the  hills,  and  one  night  fifteen  of 
them  accepted  Christ,  amid  rejoicing  in  Yancey  and  in 
Heaven.  During  the  week  twenty  united  with  the 
church,  fifteen  of  whom  received  baptism  and  twelve 
more  gave  their  names  to  Brother  Harris  for  member- 
ship in  the  church,  now  ready  to  be  organized  here. 

They  are  plain,  good  people,  unusually  free  from  many 
of  the  vices  of  the  day,  and  intelligent  and  desirous  of 
education. 

Miss  Nellie  Rogers,  a  most  accomplished  lady  and 
teacher,  has  given  some  two  years  of  her  best  efforts 
to  help  them  to  a  higher  education  and  a  nobler  life.  She 
is  only  one  of  a  score  of  such  consecrated  women  em- 
ployed in  this  work  by  the  Society  of  Soul  Winners. 

Mr.  Harris  is,  par  excellence,  the  man  for  the  work; 
a  rare  combination  of  grit  and  grace  and  gumption.     It 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      19 

takes  all  three  to  succeed  in  this  work.  He  is  most 
ably  seconded  by  Mr.  Coit,  and  I  could  find  no  accusa- 
tion against  them,  except  that  they  persist  in  trying  to 
"keep  house"  themselves,  and  make  a  "poor  out."  There 
is  no  excuse  for  such  failure  in  this  State  and  country  of 
lovely  women. 

My  time  being  limited,  I  had  to  leave  Indian  Creek 
on  Saturday,  to  preach  at  Micaville  that  night,  and 
thence  up  the  South  Toe  (Estatoa)  River,  visiting  the 
fields  of  labor  of  Misses  Pope,  Allison,  Grier  and 
Vickery. 

An  opportunity  (and  an  invitation)  may  induce  me  to 
tell  you  something  of  that  part  of  the  field,  and  the  work 
of  those  noble  women  in  the  wilds  of  Yancey  County, 
under  the  shadow  of  Mt.  Mitchell. 


ON  THE  ESTATOA. 

Acting  on  the  presumption  that  it  is  "better  late  than 
never"  (sometimes),  I  will  finish  my  former  letter  about 
my  trip  through  the  North  Carolina  Alleghanies. 

Having  borrowed  clever  Henry  Holcombe's  moun- 
tain pony,  I  set  out  from  Paint  Gap,  for  Brother  Harris' 
field  on  the  South  Toe  River.  My  journey  led  me  down 
the  pretty  valley  of  Indian  Creek,  across  Cane  River,  to 
Burnsville,  tlie  capital  of  Yancey  County.  Being  alone, 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  the  royal  company  of  the 
great  Black  Momitains  and  their  mighty  Builder. 

Burnsville  is  a  typical  place  to  live  a  "quiet  and  peace- 
able" life,  only  it  is  a  trifle  too  quiet  for  a  man  who  had 
ever  been  down  in  the  world  below.    (The  town  is  2,800 


20  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

feet  above  most  of  the  other  people.)  But  one  could 
not  wish  for  finer  water,  purer  air,  or  a  better  dinner 
than  I  found  up  there  at  an  old  soldier's  tavern.  It  was 
the  biggest  thing  in  town  or  county,  except  the  Black 
Mountain. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  two  nice  colleges  there ;  one 
built  by  the  Baptist  brethren,  and  one  by  the  Presby- 
terians, through  the  generous  help  of  Mrs.  McCormick, 
of  Chicago,  who  has  done  so  much  for  the  needy  South- 
land. 

After  dinner,  and  a  look  at  Mr.  Ray's  large  museum 
of  curios,  I  left  the  quiet  mountain-girt  village,  and 
started  down  Crabtree  Creek  for  Micaville.  The  farther 
I  went,  the  country  grew  poorer,  the  mountains  taller, 
and  the  crab-apples  more  plentiful.  I  never  saw  as 
many ;  they  were  going  to  waste  by  bushels.  Evidently 
these  good  people  don't  know  how  to  make  French 
champagne  in  North  Carolina.  They  could  supply  the 
market. 

The  day  was  lovely,  and  the  road  passable  (for  one 
horse),  though  the  creek  persisted  in  keeping  in  it,  and 
often  compelled  the  traveller  to  ford  it  lengthwise. 

Evening,  and  the  gray  pony  brought  me  to  Micaville, 
which  I  almost  fell  over  before  I  knew  it  was  there,  sit- 
ting in  a  little  nest  between  the  Mica  mills.  I  believe 
two  stores  and  two  houses  and  the  little  log  church  com- 
prise its  "improvements." 

Here  I  found  Mr.  Harris,  the  Bishop  of  the  Estatoa, 
and  his  two  assistants,  Misses  Rosa  Lee  Pope  and  Mat- 
tie  E.  Moore.  Being  a  business  man,  he  had  appointed 
preaching  for  that  Saturday  night.  The  quaint  little 
church  on  the  hill  was  crowded  with  people,  and  the 


Sketches  of  the  Americax  Highlanders.      M 

good  singing  was  led  by  our  lady  missionaries.  I 
preached  my  best  to  people  who  walked  miles  to  church 
on  Saturday  night ;  was  sorry  I  could  not  do  better. 

Air.  Clontz  furnished  me  a  nice  place  to  rest  in  his 
hospitable  home,  with  the  great  Black  Mountain  look- 
ing down  from  6,000  feet  in  the  sky,  into  his  front  door. 
The  poor  people  in  cities  and  plains  might  well  envy 
i\Ir.  Clontz. 

Early  Sunday  morning  we  started  up  the  Estatoa  to 
the  missions  taught  by  Miss  Allison  and  Miss  Vickery. 
We  had  to  flank  old  Celo,  the  Black  Mountain  Giant, 
and  travel  as  wild  a  wilderness  road  as  I  ever  saw  in 
Cumberland  or  Rocky  Mountains.  It  was  too  lonesome 
for  even  a  wild-bird  or  a  squirrel,  and  hardly  a  ray  of 
sunshine  found  its  way  to  the  ground  to  light  up  the 
sombre  wilderness.  I  remember  only  one  "clearing"  in 
many  miles. 

The  great  mountain  had  on  its  autumnal  dress  of 
crimson  and  purple  and  gold,  with  its  rich,  dark  mantle 
of  balsams  around  its  giant  shoulders.  God  only  could 
make  such  a  wardrobe,  and  only  a  god  among  moun- 
tains could  wear  it. 

About  II  A.  M.  we  reached  the  little  cabin  on  the 
"South  Toe,"  where  we  were  to  preach.  Misses  Marga- 
ret Allison  and  Mary  Vickery,  with  native  helpers,  were 
teaching  an  interesting  Sabbath  school,  of  all  ages. 

The  house  was  too  small  for  the  congregation,  so  we 
moved  out  doors,  and  preached  in  the  "First  church,"  on 
the  beautiful  Estatoa.  I  need  not  say  it  was  bigger 
than  St.  P'aul's,  and  grander  than  St.  Peter's.  God 
built  it,  and  garnished  it  with  regal  splendor  of  forest 
and  field,  mountain  and  river. 


22  Galax  Gatheeerb,  and 

It  was  too  cool  to  sit  in  the  shade,  so  I  preached  in 
the  sun,  and  the  good  people  kept  warm  by  its  October 
rays,  tempered  by  Mt.  Mitchell,  which  looked  down 
from  his  eyrie  in  the  clouds. 

The  scene  and  day  were  memorable,  and  beyond  the 
summits  of  these  great  mountains  we  will  look  back  and 
thank  God  for  it.  I  trust  some  precious  souls  were  won 
to  God  that  day.      Many  professed  their  faith,  publicly. 

I  found  the  country  wild,  and  the  people  poor  enough 
to  be  kind  and  generous.  They  are  very  much  the  same 
people  as  the  Cumberlanders — Scotch-Irish  and  Anglo- 
Saxon — with  probably  a  few  more  Huguenots.  They 
are  hospitable  beyond  their  means,  and  unusually  intel- 
ligent. They  are  much  less  inclined  to  fight  and  drink 
than  their  children  beyond  the  mountains. 

The  country  being  poor,  God  put  treasures  for  them 
in  the  deep  mica  mines,  which  are  found  all  along  the 
mountains.  Some  of  them  have  been  worked  for  years 
and  are  very  deep  (three  hundred  feet). 

After  preaching  at  3  P.  M.  I  found  a  hospitable  home 
at  "Uncle  Jason"  Ballou's  "a  lodge  in  a  vast  wilderness," 
at  the  foot  of  the  great  mountains.  It  was  worth  the 
journey  to  see  that  home  and  the  mountain  and  forest. 
God  was  everywhere  and  man  nowhere  (outside  the  little 
family  of  four).  It  was  easier  to  be  good  there,  and  they 
were  good  people.  But  even  there  they  had  their  tribu- 
lations. A  wildcat  killed  "Aunt  Emily's"  chickens  in 
the  yard,  by  daylight.  "Uncle  Jason's"  hogs  were  wild, 
and  had  to  be  hunted  with  dogs  on  the  big  mountain ; 
and  the  bears  caught  some  of  them.  But  with  it  all,  they 
seemed  contented  and  happy,  having  food  and  raiment. 

The  most  beautiful  stream  I  ever  saw, — the  clearest 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      23 

and  purest  water, — is  the  wild  and  rapid  Estatoa,  flow- 
ing out  of  the  bosom  of  Mount  Mitchell,  the  monarch  of 
the  Black  Mountains. 

Though  in  some  places  it  was  several  feet  deep,  it  was 
perfectly  clear  to  the  bottom,  and  the  beautiful  mountain 
trout  could  find  no  hiding  place.  Along  this  lovely 
river,  and  beneath  these  great  mountains,  the  Soul  Win- 
ners have  been  laboring  and  gathering  fruit  unto  ever- 
lasting life.  The  people  help  them  in  their  work,  and 
love  them  for  their  self-denial  and  service,  in  helping 
them  to  a  better  life  and  a  happier  home  in  heaven. 

But  I  will  give  you  a  rest,  though  I  have  many  things 
to  say  yet. 

I  preached  twice  a  day  for  three  days ;  and  at  the  last 
service  ten  persons,  almost  all  grown,  confessed  their 
Savior,  and  others  gave  their  hands,  to  help  organize  a 
church  here. 

They  have  the  frame  up,  and  much  of  the  lumber  on 
the  ground,  to  build  a  church,  and  we  promised  our 
Society  would  help  finish  it.  Mr.  Harris  is  a  church- 
builder,  and  he  is  ably  assisted  by  noble  mission  teach- 
ers, and  the  poor,  but  earnest,  people. 

I  was  sorry  I  could  not  visit  others  of  our  workers : 
Miss  Margaret  Grier,  at  New  Dale ;  Miss  Blanche  Vick- 
ery,  at  Red  Hill,  and  Messrs.  De  Vane  and  Jones  in  their 
fields. 

My  time  being  limited,  I  started  on  my  fifty  miles' 
ride  back  to  Asheville.  I  was  glad  of  the  privilege  of 
making  this  visit,  and  helping  these  faithful,  self-denying 
missionaries,  and  knowing  those  good  people  who  need 
help  so  much,  and  are  so  grateful  for  it.  I  feel  sure,  if 
God's  more  fortunate  people  could  see  what  I  saw,  they 


24  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

would  more  gladly  and  generously  help  in  this  work. 
God's  blessings  have  most  signally  followed  it,  and  will 
abide  on  those  who  have  so  liberally  helped  it  with  their 
prayers  and  alms.  May  their  numbers  and  blessings 
increase. 

Part  of  three  days  and  nights  on  horseback,  and  be- 
hind Brother  Coit's  patient  pony,  brought  us  to  Ashe- 
ville,  and  the  faster  "iron  horse"  brought  us  to  our 
home. 

NORTH  CAROLINA  SCOTCH-IRISH. 

Your  kind  of¥er  to  let  me  put  something  in  your 
paper  is  taken  seriously,  and  here  is  something, — a  ser- 
mon or  a  song.  It  may  be  that  some  tar-heel  has  torn 
himself  loose  from  his  turpentine-still  and  wandered  as 
far  as  your  paper  travels.  If  so,  he  will  be  interested 
in  this  letter  from  home.  On  my  way  back  to  Ken- 
tucky, from  Florida,  I  ventured  through  South  Caro- 
lina, to  Fayetteville,  N.  C,  to  spend  a  short  while  with 
Brother  McKelway,  the  fortunate  husband  of  hand- 
some Ruth  Smith,  who  needs  no  introduction  to  any 
student  at  HIampden-Sidney. 

It  is  much  in  his  favor  to  say  he  comes  as  near  being 
worthy  of  such  a  woman  as  men  generally  are  of  their 
wives. 

Brother  McKelway  is  the  live  pastor  of  a  Clan  of 
Mac's  from  the  purple  heather  of  the  Scotch  Highlands. 
They  landed  here  about  1770,  and  have  spread  abroad 
to  the  South  and  West  (not  much  to  the  North)  and 
laid  the  foundation  of  many  noble  characters  in  Church 
and  State, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      35 

The  land  is  about  poor  enough  to  produce  good  sec- 
ond-growth hickory,  and  first-class  men  and  women. 
Tlieir  wealth  is  not  sufficient  to  occupy  their  time  or 
enlist  their  affections,  so  they  turn  to  education  and 
religion. 

Here  Flora  McDonald  once  lived,  who  defied  kings 
and  armies  for  her  country  and  her  religion.  Here,  too, 
the  old  Covenanters  seceded  from  Great  Britain  and 
declared  their  Independence  before  the  Colonial  Con- 
gress, which  met  at  Philadelphia. 

These  are  a  great  people,  if  you  get  them  started 
right.  You  can  neither  stop  them,  or  turn  them,  right 
or  wrong. 

Fortunately,  John  Knox  started  them  right,  and  they 
are  still  on  that  road. 

It  was  a  privilege  and  pleasure  to  preach  to  such 
people.  I  had  been  used  to  it  at  home,  so  that  it  came 
somewhat  natural  to  let  them  have  their  own  way. 

Brother  McKelway,  with  a  large  faith  and  a  diligent 
hand,  had  prepared  the  armory  for  a  great  congrega- 
tion and  a  rich  blessing. 

I  must  confess,  I  was  a  little  dubious  when  I  thought 
of  a  week-day  prayer-meeting  at  ii  A.  M.  in  a  room 
with  a  thousand  vacant  seats,  and  a  town  of  not  more 
than  six  thousand  people.  But  Brother  McKelway's 
faith  in  his  people,  and  in  his  God,  was  not  misplaced. 

The  big  house  soon  got  too  small.  There  were  as 
many  as  five  hundred  or  more  at  the  morning  service 
and  more  than  double  that  many  at  night. 

The  business  houses  all  closed  during  the  hours  of 
service,  and  the  saloon-keepers  all  followed  the  noble  ex- 
ample.    This  was  done  without  any  pressure  or  abuse, 


26  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

They  came  to  hear  the  Gospel,  that  once  attracted  "pub- 
licans and  sinners." 

That  Gospel  has  never  lost  its  power,  as  was  plainly 
to  be  seen  at  Fayetteville.  It  is  still  "the  power  of 
God  unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  believeth,  to  the 
Jew  first  and  also  to  the  Greek." 

Both  helped  in  the  meeting,  and  I  believe  that  both 
were  blessed.  About  one  hundred  persons  publicly  con- 
fessed the  Christ  during  my  stay  of  some  ten  days. 
Twenty-five  of  these  made  the  noble  confession  the  last 
night,  when  every  available  space  in  the  big  armory  was 
crowded.  I  was  sorry  to  be  compelled  to  leave,  to  meet 
other  engagements,  and  return  to  my  own  people. 

The  meeting  will  be  continued  by  Brother  McKelway 
and  Dr.  Nash,  of  the  Methodist  Church,  who,  with  his 
own  and  other  brethren,  rendered  most  faithful  and  val- 
uable assistance. 

I  must  make  special  mention  of  the  splendid  chorus 
of  fifty  voices  (with  piano  and  organ),  which  sang  the 
Gospel  so  sweetly  and  efifectively. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  this  grand  service  of  song 
was  led  by  a  son  of  Abraham,  and  they  were  always  in 
their  places,  morning  and  night. 

I  venture  to  commend  such  fidelity  to  the  tuneful  sons 
and  daughters  of  Asaph.  Such  choruses  are  a  powerful 
auxiliary  to  the  preaching.  Indeed,  it  is  preaching  of 
the  best  sort.  It  atones  for  much  bad  preaching  from 
the  pulpit.    I  have  tried  it. 

I  well  remember  my  mother's  songs  long  after  the 
sermons  are  forgotten.  But  I  must  not  impose  on  your 
generosity  nor  "wear  my  welcome  out,"  on  my  first 
visit. 


Sketches  op  the  American  Highlanders.      2'^ 

Thanking  you  for  the  privilege  of  a  talk  with  your 
congregation,  and  hoping  it  may  still  increase,  I  am, 
Your  brother  and  servant. 


DAN.  McINTOSH. 

David  once  said  he  was  "a  wonder  to  many."  Paul 
said,  "by  grace,  I  am  what  I  am." 

Those  who  know  Dan.  Mcintosh  have  found  that  the 
wonders  of  redemption  are  still  seen,  and  the  miracles 
of  grace  have  not  yet  ceased. 

Dan.,  of  Kentucky,  was  born  thirty-eight  years  ago, 
on  the  Troublesome  River,  in  the  darkest  Cumberlands. 
There  was  not  a  railroad  within  a  hundred  miles,  nor 
a  church  in  nearly  as  many,  nor  a  qualified  preacher  or 
teacher  within  several  days'  journey  of  his  home  on  the 
Troublesome.  Dan.  was  a  grown  man  before  he  ever 
saw  either.  His  father  died  when  he  was  only  two 
years  old,  and  Dan.  was  left  to  an  indulgent  old  grand- 
father, who  left  the  boy  to  himself,  generally.  He  went 
to  a  common  mountain  school  for  about  two  years,  and 
learned  to  spell  some  easy  words  and  read  a  little.  School 
being  irksome  to  his  Highland  blood,  he  finished  it  in 
two  years,  and  entered  the  free  life  with  the  "boys"  on 
the  Troublesome.  He  was  an  apt  student,  and  soon 
graduated  in  drinking,  swearing,  gambling,  and  shoot- 
ing, illicit-distilling,  and  fighting.  His  home  in  "Bloody 
Breathitt"  was  a  congenial  one.  In  twenty  years  over  a 
hundred  men  had  died  violent  deaths  in  that  county. 

When  twenty-three  years  old,  Dan.  concluded  to 
marry,  and  found  a  loving  and  courageous  rrvountain 


28  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

girl  in  Prudence  Hogston,  who  took  Dan.  for  "better 
or  for  worse,"  principally  the  latter.  She  proved  a  de- 
voted and  faithful  wife,  and  stuck  to  Dan.  "through 
thick  and  thin,"  nursed  his  wounds  and  raised  a  family 
of  bright  children. 

Seeking  new  fields,  Dan.  moved  over  the  mountain, 
from  the  Troublesome  to  the  turbulent  waters  of  the 
Quicksand  River.  Here  he  continued  his  reckless  career 
until  1894.  But  God  had  "provided  some  better  things" 
for  Dan.,  doubtless,  in  answer  to  prayer.  He  never  for- 
gets. In  that  year  of  grace,  Rev.  Dr.  E.  O.  Guerrant 
pitched  a  Gospel  tent  on  the  Quicksand,  at  a  place  known 
as  Rousseau,  a  store,  post-ofBce  and  two  other  houses. 

There  was  not  one  church  along  the  fifty  miles  of  the 
Quicksand,  but  there  were  many  hundreds  of  sinners 
for  whom  Christ  died,  and  Dan.  Mcintosh  was  among 
them. 

To  this  cotton  tent,  the  untutored  Highlanders  came 
in  crowds,  on  foot,  over  mountains  and  across  streams, 
and  sat  from  9  A.  M.  until  4  P.  M.  to  hear  the  Gospel. 
The  "old,  old  story"  was  new  to  them.  They  sat  on 
rough  logs,  boards  and  rocks.  The  singing  was  led  by 
Miss  Ellen  Converse,  of  Louisville,  and  little  Anne 
Guerrant,  who  came  with  her  father,  to  play  a  little 
organ,  and  help  in  the  service. 

More  than  fifty  persons  confessed  Christ,  and  there 
was  joy  on  the  Quicksand.  One  day  "Uncle  Nimrod" 
Mcintosh,  Dan's  grandfather,  an  old  Highlander,  with 
his  aged  wife,  came  to  beg  Dr.  Guerrant  to  let  them 
join  the  church  and  be  baptized.  The  Doctor  told  them 
he  must  preach  ten  days  before  he  opened  the  doors 
of  the  church.      Uncle  Nim  insisted,  because  he  lived 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      29 

across  the  river,  and  they  might  not  have  another  chance 
to  join,  for  if  it  rained  they  could  not  get  across.  The 
Doctor  consented  to  make  an  exception  of  Uncle  Nim 
and  Aunt  Nancy.  They  came,  and  like  Zaccheus  "re- 
ceived Jesus  joyfully"  and  took  Him  back  to  their  little 
mountain  home. 

Dan.  saw  all  this,  and  heard  it.  A  life  of  reckless  sin 
was  behind  him.  but  God  and  heaven  and  salvation  were 
before  him.  "And  he  arose  and  came  to  his  Father." 
I  need  not  say  that  our  loving  Father  met,  embraced,  for- 
gave and  saved  him.  Fie  turned  away  from  all  his  evil 
ways  and  served  God  as  zealously  as  he  had  ever  served 
Satan.  His  hand  and  heart  were  converted,  a  warm 
heart  and  a  strong  hand,  and  both  and  all  he  had  were 
dedicated  to  His  service,  who  loved  and  died  for  him. 

Always  a  "front  man,"  he  now  became  a  front  man 
in  the  Lord's  work.  He  taught  in  the  Sabbath  school, 
conducted  the  prayer-meeting,  travelled  over  his  native 
mountains,  and  bore  the  "glad  tidings"  to  his  own  per- 
ishing countrymen.  And  "all  men  did  marvel,"  and 
many  believed  on  Jesus  for  the  saying  of  Dan.  They 
knew  he  was  a  true  and  brave  man,  and  all  had  respect 
for  his  honesty  and  sincerity,  and  he  has  won  many  souls 
to  Christ  by  his  "walk  and  conversation."  He  was 
elected  an  elder  in  the  church,  and  for  some  years  has 
been  employed  by  the  Inland  Mission  (the  Society  of 
Soul  Winners)  as  an  evangelist  to  his  own  people. 

The  last  time  I  remember  seeing  Dan.  was  at  another 
meeting,  conducted  by  Dr.  Guerrant,  far  up  on  the 
Quicksand,  in  a  churchless  country,  in  a  big  tent.  The 
morning  service  began  about  9  o'clock.  Not  long 
after  that  hour  I  saw  Dan.  and  his  devoted  wife  coming 


30  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

up  the  hill  to  the  meeting.  They  had  walked  about 
twelve  long  mountain  miles  to  church,  across  the  almost 
inaccessable  Caney  Mountain. 

This  is  the  kind  of  religion  Dan.  got  under  the  big 
tent  on  the  Quicksand.  He  is  still  in  service,  trying  to 
win  souls  to  his  blessed  Master,  who  rescued  him  from 
sin  and  death. 


THE  DEDICATION  ON  HADDIX  FORK. 

It  was  a  fearfully  rainy,  disagreeable  day  last  week, 
when  I  started  one  hundred  miles  into  the  Cumberland 
Mountains  to  the  dedication  of  the  little  church  of  Had- 
dix  Fork.  Noon  Saturday  found  me  at  Elkatawa,  where 
I  unexpectedly  met  Miss  Emma  Withers,  the  accom- 
plished mission  teacher  at  Canoe,  on  the  Middle  Fork. 
A  rough  road-wagon,  drawn  by  two  mules,  pulled  us 
several  miles  over,  or  rather  through,  a  desperate  road 
up  Cane  Creek  to  Haddix  Fork.  A  large  box  of  Bibles 
and  Testaments,  and  clothing  for  children,  and  other 
needy  ones,  made  the  wagon  heavier  and  harder  to  pull 
through  deep  mud-holes,  worn  by  hauling  ties  and  logs 
to  the  railroad.  Evening  brought  us  in  sight  of  the 
little  white  chapel  of  Mrs.  Andrews,  in  the  valley  of 
Haddix  Fork,  just  wide  enough  for  the  creek  and  the 
chapel.  It  had  been  built  by  a  noble  woman  in  Chicago, 
whom  none  of  us  ever  saw.  The  poor  Highlanders, 
with  infinite  patience  and  perseverance,  had  cut  down 
big  trees  and  dragged  them  through  mud  and  water  to 
the  little  mountain  saw-mill.  They  had  split  the  boards 
on  the  mountain  and  carried  them  down  on  their  shoul- 


o 

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P 

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£ 


Sketches  of  the  Ameeioan  Highlanders.      31 

ders,  to  cover  the  little  church.  By  dint  of  hard  work 
it  was  done  at  last,  and  Mrs.  Andrews,  the  faithful  teach- 
er, was  happy  and  thankful,  even  with  the  headache. 
Two  men  were  at  work  on  a  little  cottage  by  the 
church,  where  she  will  live  and  teach  the  Highland  lads 
and  lassies  the  Gospel  of  Jesus.  An  open-hearted  old 
mountaineer  gave  me  a  warm  welcome  and  a  little  room 
to  sleep  in  (he  had  but  two).  Mrs.  Andrews  was  living 
in  a  room  by  the  church,  just  wide  enough  to  hold  a  little 
stove  and  a  cot,  without  even  room  for  the  box  or  bed. 
If  one  wants  to  see  how  people  lived  in  the  "good  old 
times,"  let  him  go  to  Haddix  Fork.  Those  good  people 
are  our  contemporaries  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Their 
open-hearted,  and  free-handed,  simple  manner  is  charm- 
ing to  one  accustomed  to  the  vanities  and  vexations  of 
much  fashionable  society,  full  of  hypocrisy  and  selfish- 
ness. Though  there  was  no  appointment  for  preaching 
that  night,  the  little  bell  on  the  church,  filled  it  by  dark, 
with  an  earnest  people,  who  listened  with  gladness  to  the 
old  story  of  Jesus. 

Every  one  walked  but  the  babies;  and  they  are  al- 
ways present  in  the  mountains.  Old  "Uncle  Stephen" 
Miller,  who  had  lived  there  most  of  his  life,  said  that 
was  the  first  church  bell  he  had  ever  heard,  and  it  sum- 
moned the  humble  dwellers  in  these  mountains  to  the 
first  church  ever  built  on  Haddix  Fork.  It  was  of 
course  a  very  unpretentious  building  (as  it  cost  less  than 
$300.00),  but  it  was  the  only  one  they  ever  had,  and  a 
"thing  of  beauty"  among  the  little  cabins  on  Haddix 
Fork. 

Sunday  morning  rose  in  all  its  glory  over  these  poor 
mountains,  and  God  smiled  away  the  clouds,  which  had 


32  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

covered  them  for  weeks,  like  a  pall.  By  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning  the  Highlanders  commenced  coming, 
and  by  nine  o'clock  the  house  was  crowded  inside  and 
out.  Many  of  them  had  walked  miles  through  mud  and 
water,  and  across  mountains.  "Proctor  Bill"  and  Lewis 
Hensley,  the  faithful  native  helpers,  were  there  by  8 
A.  M.,  and  at  9:15  I  began  the  services  of  dedication, 
which,  with  its  singing  and  preaching,  continued  until 
noon;  and  not  a  soul  left  the  church  or  went  to  sleep 
It  was  no  trouble  to  preach  there,  for  they  were  hungry 
for  the  Gospel ;  and  it  is  little  trouble  to  feed  a  hungry 
man.  Old  Grandmother  Miller  said  she  "could  have 
listened  till  dark,  and  it  was  the  best  day  of  her  life," 
and  she  is  seventy-two. 

On  invitation,  scores  of  them  came  up  to  confess 
Christ,  in  the  simplicity  of  the  faith  that  saves.  It  was 
not  so  hard  to  persuade  them  that  God  has  a  better 
country  for  them.  It  is  a  continual  struggle  for  bread 
here.  The  steep  mountain  sides  soon  wash  to  the  rock, 
and  it  is  a  battle  with  ground-squirrels  and  ground- 
hogs to  save  their  corn,  from  the  time  it  is  planted  to 
the  day  it  is  gathered.  Evening  found  me  back  at  Elka- 
tawa,  several  miles  down  Cane  Creek.  On  the  way,  I 
turned  up  the  Belcher's  Fork  to  see  Mrs.  "Proctor  Bill" 
Little,  who  had  for  five  months  been  at  death's  door. 
I  was  glad  to  find  her  able  to  sit  out  on  the  porch  of 
their  little  cabin,  and  see  the  sunshine  on  the  hills,  once 
more.  She  was  very  proud  of  their  home  and  farm,  the? 
best  they  ever  had,  and  it  cost  $100.00,  most  of  it  given 
by  generous  hands  she  never  knew. 

Brother  Evans,  the  earnest  Welsh  missionary  at  Elka- 
tawa,  had  gone  to  New  York  to  see  his  dying  mother. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      33 

But  the  bell  on  Kessler  Chapel  filled  the  house  at  dark 
with  a  congregation,  all  of  whom  walked,  and  most  all 
of  whom  were  young  men  and  women.  It  was  an  un- 
usual scene.  After  preaching,  I  spent  the  night  alone 
in  the  little  manse  nearby,  and  wished  for  the  morning. 
At  Oakdale,  6  A.  M.,  Monday,  Proctor  Bill  met  me 
with  a  horse  (five  miles  and  two  mountains  from  his 
home),  and  accompanied  me  to  Puncheon  Camp,  the 
beautiful  mountain  stream  which  has  neither  church  nor 
school-house,  but  scores  of  children.  The  Puncheon 
Campers  promised  everything  I  wanted,  but  money,  to 
build  them  a  church  and  college,  the  logs  and  land,  and 
labor  and  children. 

They  had  cut  the  trees  on  the  mountain  and  sawed 
10,000  feet  of  lumber  as  a  pledge  of  their  sincerity.  We 
accepted  it,  and  by  God's  help,  and  yours,  will  have  them 
a  church  and  school  before  Santa  Claus  comes  to  glad- 
den your  home.      He  has  never  been  to  theirs. 


A  HIGHLAND  WEDDING. 

Once  when  preaching  on  the  Raccoon  Fork  of  Goose 
Creek,  where  there  never  was  a  church,  my  host.  Uncle. 
Zachariah  Smith,  told  me  of  two  remarkable  Highland 
lassies  whom  he  termed  the  "boss  gals"  on  the  creek. 
Besides  being  good  Christians,  they  were  the  best  work- 
ers in  the  country.  They  could  fell  more  trees,  split 
more  rails,  hoe  more  corn,  and  raise  more  pumpkins 
than  any  women  he  knew.  I  concluded  to  hunt  up 
these  fine  women,  and  get  them  to  come  to  the  little 
school-house  where  we  were  holding  a  meeting.     Their 


34  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

log-cabin  was  so  remote  and  secluded,  I  got  lost  in  the 
wilderness  trying  to  find  it,  and  only  succeeded  by 
climbing  a  mountain  and  surveying  the  deep  valleys 
below.  Their  home  was  a  poor,  little  log-cabin,  a  big 
loom  filling  almost  all  the  puncheon-shed  in  front  of  the 
only  room.  Their  aged  father  and  two  boys  made  up 
the  family.  Over  the  home  a  mountain  hung  almost 
perpendicularly,  but  it  was  cleared  and  cultivated  iw, 
corn  to  the  top.  On  inquiry,  I  learned  that  these  two 
girls  had  borne  their  part,  with  the  elder  brother,  in 
clearing  off  the  forest  of  great  oaks,  and  splitting  the 
rails,  and  fencing  and  cultivating  it  with  hoes.  It  was 
that,  or  no  corn. 

I  noticed  that  the  elder  brother  seemed  to  be  dressed 
up,  having  on  a  new  pair  of  shoes  and  pants,  on  a  week- 
day. I  made  no  inquiry,  as  it  was  not  my  business. 
It  is  safer  in  this  country  to  attend  strictly  to  one's  own 
business.  After  awhile,  I  saw  a  young  man  riding  a 
mule  over  the  top  of  a  mountain,  bearing  aloft  a  flag. 
Knowing  the  martial  spirit  of  the  Highlanders,  I  in- 
quired  if  that  was  a  declaration  of  war.  Dave  (the  elder 
brother)  said  there  was  a  wedding  on  Possum  Creek, 
and  the  man  was  the  brother  of  the  bride  coming  after 
the  groom.  I  then  understood  why  Dave  was  dressed 
up,  and  inquired  if  he  was  the  groom.  He  "admitted 
the  soft  impeachment,"  as  the  newspapers  say,  and  ex- 
plained that  when  a  Highland  lass  was  to  be  married, 
she  sent  her  big  brother  after  the  groom  to  avoid  any 
delay  or  disappointment.  Dave  appeared  resigned,  and 
told  me  the  name  of  the  bride  was  Polly  Cynthy  Ann, 
and  they  would  be  married  as  soon  as  Uncle  Zebedee, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      35 

the  preacher,  could  cross  the  river  and  get  there,  some- 
time that  evening. 

Soon  the  big  brother,  fully  armed,  came  prepared  to 
bring  the  groom — dead  or  alive.  Riding  up  to  the 
rail-fence  in  front  of  the  cabin,  he  inquired  of  Dave,  if 
he  VJ2LS  ready.  He  answered  "yes,"  and  donning  his 
coat,  mounted  his  mule  and  rode  away.  He  forgot  to 
insist  on  my  going,  as  I  had  no  horse  to  ride,  otherwise 
I  would  have  gone,  as  everybody  is  welcome  in  the  High- 
lands. 

My  good  host.  Uncle  Zachariah,  went,  and  returned 
to  tell  me  that  Polly  Ann  was  the  "boss  gal"  on  Pos- 
sum Creek,  saying,  "Old  Bill,  her  father,  gave  her  a 
big  wedding  dinner,  of  pork  and  beans  and  sweet  pota- 
toes, and  pumpkin  pies  and  sweet-cakes  enough  for 
everybody." 

"Soon  after  the  wedding  dinner,  Polly  Ann  got  her 
hoe  and  said,  "Dave,  Pop's  craps  is  in  the  weeds,  and 
this  is  no  time  to  be  idle;  come  ahead.  Dave  went 
ahead,  and  when  I  left  Possum  Creek,  Dave  and  Polly 
was  knocking  weeds  high  as  their  heads" ;  and  Uncle 
Zachariah  chuckled  his  entire  satisfaction  with  such  a 
"boss  gal."  A  young  friend,  who  was  present,  told  me 
that  when  the  old  parson  arrived,  he  found  two  couples 
to  be  married  instead  of  one.  The  grooms  got  the  old 
man  in  a  fence-corner  and  argued  for  a  reduction  of  th(; 
wedding  fee.  The  venerable  parson  claimed  the  usual 
fee,  which  was  one  dollar,  but  the  boys  argued  that  as  it 
was  a  wholesale  business,  he  must  come  down.  After 
much  argument,  the  fee  was  finally  settled  at  seventy- 
five  cents  apiece.  I  inquired  of  some  of  the  wedding 
guests  what  presents  the  bride  received.      Th^ey  wen? 


36  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

astonished  at  my  question,  and  replied  that  they  had 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  I  told  them  of  our  custom 
down  in  the  "settlement,"  and  the  appropriateness  of 
such  a  custom,  and  tried  to  set  them  an  example.  There 
were  two  other  evangelists  with  me,  and  we  searched 
our  saddle-bags  and  found  a  spare  Bible,  a  few  white 
neckties,  a  paper  of  pins,  a  set  of  horn  cuff-buttons  and 
a  few  handkerchiefs.  Armed  with  these  wedding  pres- 
ents, I  found  the  bride  mending  Dave's  old  pantaloons, 
and  overwhelmed  her  with  embarrassment  when  I  laid 
these  gifts  in  her  lap,  with  the  compliments  of  the  mis- 
sionaries and  our  prayers  for  long  and  happy  and  useful 
lives  for  her  and  Dave. 


FROM  THE  BIG  BLACK  MOUNTAIN. 

I  left  my  home  on  Monday  morning  and  came  by  rail 
to  Cumberland  Gap,  where  I  spent  the  night,  Tuesday 
morning  I  took  the  5  A.  M.  train  for  the  "Double  Tun- 
nel," at  Gilly,  near  Big  Stone  Gap,  Virginia,  and  seventy 
miles  above  Cumberland  Gap. 

Here  at  9  A.  M.  I  took  a  horse  for  Whitesburg, 
Letcher  County,  Kentucky.  My  travelling  companion 
and  guide  was  "Billy"  Vermilion,  on  a  little  mule. 

Our  route  lay  up  Callahan  Fork  of  Powell  River,  some 
ten  miles  between  the  mountains,  to  the  big  coke-ovens 
and  coal-mines  at  Pioneer,  a  new  settlement  at  the  foot 
of  Big  Black  Mountain,  the  highest  range  of  the  Cum- 
berlands,  which  here  divides  Virginia  from  Kentucky. 

On  GUP  way  up  Callahan,  Billy  showt'd  me  where  a 


r. 

'A 
'A 
'A 
'A 


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A 

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as 


Sketches  oE"  the  American  Highlanders.      37 

big  rock  had  mashed  three  men  and  they  had  to  "rake 
them  up"  when  they  got  the  rock  off,  by  blasting  it.  I 
thought  of  that  day  when  men  will  "call  upon  the  rocks 
and  mountains  to  fall  upon  them."  We  found  the  Big 
Black  Mountain  well  named.  It  was  both  big  and 
black. 

The  forests  at  the  foot  were  green  with  spring  foliage, 
but  on  top  the  mountain  was  dark  and  naked  as  winter, 
though  the  soil  is  a  rich,  black  loam,  out  of  which  grow 
giants  of  the  forest — immense  sugar  trees,  oak,  walnut, 
poplar,  chestnut,  etc. 

We  rested  our  exhausted  horses  on  top  of  the  big 
mountain  and  lay  down  on  a  carpet  of  beautiful  blue 
grass,  under  the  biggest  sugar  trees  I  ever  saw.  It  looked 
strange  to  see  such  a  growth  on  top  of  such  a  moun- 
tain, thousands  of  feet  high. 

But 

"Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green : 
So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood. 
While  Jordan  rolled  between." 

I  am  not  sure  that  Jordan  was  any  harder  road  to 
travel  than  up  the  Big  Black.  It  is  probably  the  same 
road. 

Here  lives  old  Dan.  Richmond,  a  former  slave  of 
General  Jonathan  Richmond,  near  Big  Stone  Gap.  He 
owns  a  big  farm  on  top  of  this  big  mountain  (said  to 
be  the  best  in  the  county),  and  here  has  raised  blue 
grass,  Indian  corn  and  a  decent  family,  in  spite  of  the 
frost  and  the  bears. 

Everywhere  beautiful  wild  fiowers  redeemed  the  deso- 


38  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

lation  of  the  wilderness,  recalling  that  beautiful  verse  in 
Gray's  Elegy, 

"Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  rays  serene, 

The  dark  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear; 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." 

And  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  many  immortal 
flowers  were  left  uncared  for  and  unsaved  in  these  wild 
waste  mountains.      I  saw  them  everywhere. 

I  met  a  bare-headed,  bare-footed  girl  with  a  beautiful 
face  and  form,  carrying  a  big  bucket  of  water  to  an 
humble  cabin  home.  These  great  mountains  are  filled 
with  there  immortelles,  who  must  live  somewhere,  when 
their  hoary  hills  have  passed  away. 

To  save  them,  God  gave  His  Son,  and  the  Church 
should  give  her  sons  and  her  treasures. 

The  trail  led  us  down  the  Black  Mountain,  as  nearly 
perpendicular  as  a  man  could  walk  or  a  mule  could 
slide.  At  the  foot,  we  struck  the  headwaters  of  the 
Poor  Fork  of  Cumberland  River.  (These  people  have  a 
genius  for  giving  appropriate  names.) 

Here  we  stopped  to  rest  and  feed  our  horses  at  Wils. 
Hawley's  (or  Sturgill's),  who  keeps  his  hogs  belled  and 
sells  his  corn  at  fifty  cents  a  bushel. 

A  man  was  plowing  on  the  mountain,  with  a  big  pistol 
buckled  around  him.  He  was  probably  expecting  a 
revenue  officer.     We  explained  that  we  were  not  in  that 


"service." 


A  few  miles  down  one  fork  and  up  another  brought 
us  to  the  Cumberland  Mountain  (also  called  Pine  and 
Laurel  Mounatin).      It  ought  to  be  called  also  Stone 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      39 

Mountain,  for  it  is  a  mass  of  stones  from  top  to  bottom. 
While  not  quite  so  big  as  Big  Black,  it  is  big  enough, 
and  bad  to  climb  on  account  of  the  multitude  of  stones 
which  fill  the  narrow  gully  that  is  called  a  road, 

I  once  rode  a  mule  to  the  top  of  Pike's  Peak,  and  I 
don't  know  which  is  the  worst  road. 

At  the  foot  of  Pine  Mountain  we  came  upon  the 
Cowan  branch  of  the  Kentucky  River,  and  crossing 
another  mountain,  we  reached  Whitesburg  about  sun- 
down, sore,  tired  and  with  the  headache. 

I  am  glad  I  am  alive.  I  found  Whitesburg  but  little 
changed  since  I  was  here  in  the  army  over  thirty  years 
ago.  It  is  the  same  little  village  of  one  narrow,  dusty 
street,  some  two  dozen  houses,  and  about  a  hundred 
people,  in  a  narrow  valley  on  the  headwaters  of  the 
Kentucky  River,  within  eight  miles  of  the  Virginia  State 
line,  which  is  on  top  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains. 

Though  it  is  more  than  fifty  years  old,  it  has  no 
church,  or  academy,  or  tailor,  saddler,  shoemaker  or 
blacksmith,  one  doctor,  and  no  dentist. 

It  seems  to  have  grown  only  in  years.  I  have  found 
only  two  men  here  whom  I  knew  in  the  army.  The 
legions  of  brave  men  I  once  saw  here  have  struck  their 
tents  and  crossed  over  the  river  to  rest.  "Caudill's  Army" 
and  "Marshall's  Men"  have  followed  their  captains  to 
the  great  review  of  the  "Grand  Army"  of  the  "Lord  of 
Hosts." 

There  was  no  place  to  preach  but  in  a  little,  old  court- 
house, which  our  Baptist  and  Methodist  brethren  have 
used  for  half  a  century.  Brother  Deggendorf,  one  of 
the   Louisville    Seminary   students,   and   two   Mormon 


40  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

Elders  from  Salt  Lake  City  occupied  the  pulpit  on  Sun- 
day, one  in  the  morning  and  two  at  night. 

We  explained  that  we  were  not  of  the  same  faith. 

I  preached  on  Tuesday  night  in  the  little  court-house 
to  a  few  dozen  people.  The  people  of  this  country  are 
of  the  Hardshell  Baptist  persuasion,  though  some  are 
getting  softer  than  others.  There  is  one  small  Southern 
Methodist  Church  in  the  county,  and  one  lone  Presby- 
terian member,  up  the  river,  five  miles  from  town. 

We  felt  somewhat  lonesome  here.  But  the  Lord  had 
promised  to  go  with  us  "to  the  end  of  the  world,"  and 
as  we  had  reached  that  place,  we  claimed  that  promise. 

On  Wednesday  morning  I  preached  to  two  women, 
six  children  and  eight  men.  It  was  hard  work.  Twice 
every  day,  since,  we  have  been  trying  to  pull  up  "the 
steepest  place  on  the  hill  of  Zion"  I  ever  found. 

The  congregations  increased  until  the  little  court-house 
was  uncomfortably  filled. 

On  Thursday  the  presiding  elder  and  circuit  rider  of 
the  Methodist  Church  arrived  to  hold  their  quarterly 
meeting. 

I  knew  nothing  of  their  coming,  nor  they  of  mine. 
We  found  them  both  earnest,  good  men,  and  divided 
the  time  until  the  next  Tuesday.  On  Sunday  we  cele- 
brated the  Communion,  and  ten  people  sat  down  to  the 
table,  and  two  of  them  were  from  a  distance. 

Only  ten  in  a  court-house  full !  It  was  inexpressibly 
sad.  I  had  never  seen  the  like  before.  There  are  not 
a  dozen  members  of  all  churches  in  this  town. 

Our  Methodist  brother  was  a  good  singer,  though 
some  of  his  preaching  was  "advanced"  beyond  anything 


Sketches  of  the  American-  Highlanders.      41 

I  have  ever  found  in  the  Bible.     It  probably  suited  some 
"new  women"  and  others  with  "new  views," 

But  I  am  a  married  man,  and  have  learned  to  mod- 
estly differ  from  people  that  I  love.  So  we  differed, 
and  loved,  I  hope.  (I  ought  to  say  my  wife  is  not  a 
"new  woman,"  though  she  is  not  old.) 

I  preached  twice  daily  to  growing  congregations  until 
Thursday  night. 

The  Mormons  returned  the  day  the  Methodist  brother 
left.  I  did  not  divide  the  time  with  them,  though  they 
are  great  ladies'  men.  They  listened  and  scattered  their 
literature  about  town.  So  the  tares  and  the  wheat  are 
still  sown  together  and  are  growing  together.  Thank 
God  for  the  wheat.     Not  mvich  of  it  has  been  sown  here. 

On  Thursday  morning  I  preached  on  the  distinctive 
doctrines  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  including  the 
mode  of  baptism,  which  is  the  distinguished  and  dis- 
tinguishing doctrine  up  here. 

The  court-house  was  crowded  and  they  listened  an 
hour  and  a  half  and  expressed  themselves  satisfied  (prob- 
ably with  the  length),  though  some  Baptists  agreed  with 
us  and  united  with  us. 

During  the  week,  in  spite  of  serious  obstacles  and  in- 
terruptions, some  eighteen  persons  publicly  confessed 
their  faith  in  Christ. 

I  appointed  Thursday  evening  as  the  time  for  the 
organization  of  the  first  Presbyterian  Church  of  the 
county.  Just  before  the  hour,  Dr.  Witherspoon  glad- 
ened  our  hearts  by  riding  up.  He  had  ridden  across 
the  mountains  from  Big  Stone  Gap. 

I  always  esteemed  the  doctor  very  highly ;  but  the 
man  who  crosses  the  Big  Black  twice  to  preach  the  Gos- 


42  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

pel  here  has  my  profoundest  admiration.  He  has  it 
and  deserves  it  (though  he  went  back  another  way). 

His  coming  was  most  providential,  for  my  engage- 
ments at  home  compelled  me  to  leave  the  next  morn- 
ing.   He  will  remain  until  next  week. 

These  hardy  mountaineers  are  among  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  manhood,  with  strong  minds  and  bodies;  and 
only  need  conversion  and  culture  to  make  them  fine 
specimens  of  Christian  activity.  Long  training  in  ex- 
treme views  of  God's  sovereignty,  and  man's  inability, 
has  made  them  the  hardest  people  to  reach  I  have  ever 
known.  It  is  humanly  impossible  to  reach  the  man, 
with  both  a  hard  heart  and  a  hard  head.  But  God  can 
do  it,  and  does  it  with  plain  preaching  and  earnest 
prayer. 

I  found  a  fine  lot  of  young  people  at  Whitesburg;  a 
number  of  these  joined  our  church,  and  they  are  the 
hope  of  the  future.  Christian  people  can  do  no  better 
with  God's  talents  in  their  hands  than  to  employ  them 
in  this  great  work  of  helping  these  people  to  a  better 
life. 


THE  IVY  PATCH. 

It  is  said  that  Agassiz  could  give  a  full  account  of  an 
unknown  fish  from  a  single  scale,  or  paint  the  picture 
of  the  prehistoric  Saurian  from  his  track  in  the  rock. 

Ivy  Patch  will  answer  for  a  scale  or  a  track,  from 
which  the  wise  can  estimate  the  character  and  size  of 
the  great  work  undertaken  and  accomplished  by  the 
Synod  of  Kentucky  in  its  evangelistic  work. 

Two  years  ago,  two  lone  horsemen  might  have  been 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      43 

seen  riding,  single-file,  up  a  little  mountain  stream  in 
the  wilds  of  Eastern  Kentucky.  They  were  soaking 
wet  from  a  big  rain,  from  which  they  could  find  no  pro- 
tection. They  were  hunting  "the  lost  sheep"  amid  the 
fastness  of  the  miountains.  There  were  few  houses,  and 
they  were  small  and  humble.  There  was  not  a  church 
in  the  county,  and  never  had  been  one.  They  were 
evangelists  of  the  Synod  of  Kentucky.  A  few  of  the 
hardy  mountaineers  forded  the  streams  and  crossed  the 
hills  to  the  little  house  of  clever  Matt.  Bowman,  on  the 
head  of  Twin  Creek.  God  came,  too,  over  the  moun- 
tains of  our  sins,  and  filled  the  place  with  His  presence 
and  power.  Many  souls  were  there  born  into  His  king- 
dom, who  will  one  day  stand  on  Mt.  Zion.  The  gener- 
ous mountaineer  entertained  nearly  the  whole  congrega- 
tion for  two  days,  with  bed  and  board,  for  the  pouring 
rain  prevented  them  from  going  home.  Tlie  old,  log 
school-house  across  the  mountain,  on  the  head  of  Bear 
Creek,  furnished  the  nearest  and  only  place  of  public 
meeting.  So  with  their  little  congregation,  some  few 
on  horses,  some  on  foot,  and  some  carried  in  the  arms, 
the  evangelists  crossed  the  mountain,  through  a  primeval 
wilderness,  to  the  settlement  on  Bear  Creek.  The  old 
school-house  gave  them  a  generous  welcome  with  wide- 
open  doors  and  windows,  and  fire-place  and  chinks,  and 
cracks. 

It  didn't  hold  the  congregation,  but  they  could  hear 
as  well  outside  as  inside.  Indeed  it  was  most  outside. 
But  God  is  no  "respector  of  persons"  nor  houses.  And 
God  came,  and  made  that  old  log  school-house  the  very 
gate  of  heaven. 

The  first  sermon  was  made  the  power  to  reach  sixteen 


44  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

souls,  among  them  the  aged  and  young,  who  rejoiced  in 
such  a  God  and  such  a  Gospel.  They  lifted  up  their 
voices  and  wept  for  joy.  You  would  have  thought  it 
was  a  Methodist  meeting  instead  of  a  Presbyterian.  God 
gave  them  the  victory,  and  they  shouted  at  Bear  Creek. 
God  himself  sometimes  goes  up  with  a  shout,  and  the 
Lord  will  come  down  with  it,  Paul  says.  So  "the  daugh- 
ters of  Jerusalem"  shouted  at  Bear  Creek,  and  the  Pres- 
byterian evangelists  did  not  confine  their  joys,  nor 
hamper  the  simple  manners  of  the  children  of  the  hills. 

Shouting  is  not  religion,  but  the  religion  that  does  not 
feel  like  shouting  sometimes,  needs  mending  badly.  It 
isn't  the  Bear  Creek  kind;  nor  the  Pentecostal  kind. 

When  the  harvest  on  Bear  Creek  was  gathered,  the 
evangelists  took  up  their  congregation  and  crossed  over 
to  the  Ivy  Patch,  a  companion  of  Bear  Creek,  which 
flows  into  the  middle  fork  of  the  Kentucky  River,  in  Lee 
County.  Here  there  was  not  even  a  ventilated  school- 
house  they  could  use,  so  the  widow  Palmer  opened  her 
heart  and  her  double  log-cabin  to  the  strange  preachers 
and  the  whole  congregation.  The  same  God  who  found 
Paul,  when  he  was  lost  in  the  stormy  Adriatic,  found  His 
children  on  the  Ivy  Patch,  and  gave  them  many  souls 
from  the  shipwreck  of  sin.  Here  the  first  Presbyterian 
Church  in  Lee  County,  Kentucky,  was  organized,  with 
over  forty  members  and  three  good  officers.  This  is 
the  beginning  of  the  history  of  Ivy  Patch.  It  will  be 
finished  in  glory. 

This  was  two  years  ago.  On  the  third  Sabbath  of 
July,  1891,  a  large  congregation  of  earnest  worshippers, 
many  of  whom  walked  miles  in  the  rain,  assembled  in  a 
new  church  on  the  Twin  Creek,  just  over  the  hill  from 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlandees.      45 

Ivy  Patch.  This  is  the  Ivy  Patch  Church,  and  was 
built  here,  because  of  the  junction  of  waters  and  ways. 

The  evangehsts  were  present,  with  other  faithful  ser- 
vants, who  labored  in  word  and  doctrine.  It  was  a 
day  of  rejoicing  and  thanksgiving.  God  had  again 
visited  his  people.  He  is  the  God  of  the  hills,  as  well 
as  the  valleys. 

The  new  church  was  dedicated  free  of  debt,  five  m'ore 
officers  elected  and  ordained,  forty-eight  new  members 
added  to  the  church,  and  God's  name  glorified,  and  His 
grace  magnified. 

Two  years  ago,  and  there  was  not  a  single  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Lee  County;  now  there  are  three,  and 
this  is  the  first.  Two  years  ago,  and  there  was  not  a 
Presbyterian  preacher  in  Lee  County ;  there  were  five 
at  the  dedication  of  the  Ivy  Patch  Church.  Two  years 
ago,  there  were  not  a  dozen  members  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Lee  County ;  now  there  are  two  regu- 
lar preachers,  three  churches  organized,  and  some  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  members.  Rev.  James  M. 
Little  is  pastor  of  this  church,  a  son  of  the  soil,  and 
every  inch  a  man,  and  he  is  ably  supported  by  as  true 
and  earnest  a  body  of  officers  as  rule  any  church  in  the 
land.  In  Rev.  E.  P.  Mickel  and  Rev.  Alex.  Henry  and 
Rev.  A.  P.  Gregory,  he  has  faithful  and  effective  helpers 
in   neighboring  fields. 

This  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  church  organized  on  the 
Ivy  Patch.  It  is  only  a  sample.  God  has  ever  multiplied 
the  tokens  of  his  favor  on  this  work.  No  other  portion 
of  His  vineyard  has  enjoyed  such  signal  displays  of  His 
divine  approbation. 


46  Galax  Gatherers^  and 


FROM  HAZARD. 

A  word  from  these  "unexplored  regions"  may  not  be 
unwelcome  nor  unwholesome.  It  may  serve  the  pur- 
pose of  teaching  one-half  the  world  how  the  other  half 
lives. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  August  I  left  my  home  for  a 
visit  to  this  place,  which  is  notorious  in  the  bloody  an- 
nals of  the  mountains,  as  the  capital  of  Perry  County, 
and  the  seat  of  the  desperate  French-Eversole  war. 

The  Kentucky  Union  Railroad  brought  me  to  Jack- 
son, the  county  seat  of  Breathitt  County,  one  hundred 
miles  southeast  of  Lexington.  But  a  few  years  ago  it 
took  three  days'  hard  riding  to  make  this  trip  over  the 
mountains. 

Jackson  is  a  demonstraton  of  the  Gospel.  No  infidel 
can  answer  her  argument.  When  I  first  visited  the 
place,  some  few  years  ago,  there  was  not  a  church  in 
the  town  or  county.  It  was  the  scene  of  violence,  and 
profanity,  and  drunkenness,  and  murder.  An  army  of 
soldiers  could  not  keep  the  peace.  To-day  there  is  not  a 
more  orderly,  peaceable,  prosperous  town  in  the  State. 
The  Gospel  did  it.  Now  they  have  good  churches,  good 
preachers,  teachers,  homes,  business  houses,  and  a  pros- 
perous college,  with  seven  teachers. 

But  I  must  hasten  on  to  Hazard.  After  one  brief 
night  at  the  new,  handsome  "Riverside  Hotel,"  at  Jack- 
son (that  hotel  followed  the  Gospel),  a  clever  brother 
furnished  me  a  saddle-horse  for  the  long  overland  jour- 
ney. I  preferred  a  better  way,  but  was  glad  not  to  have 
to  walk.     Thl:  distance  to  Hazard  is  thTrty-^iglit  miles, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      47 

mountain  miles.  There  is  a  big  difference  between 
mountain  miles  and  ordinary  miles,  and  all  the  differ- 
ence is  in  favor  of  the  mountain  kind. 

I  started  at  6  A.  M.,  for  I  had  some  experience  in 
their  length.  Ten  miles'  ride  up  the  beautiful  Ken- 
tucky River,  between  her  palisades  of  paw-paws,  and 
her  colonnades  of  wild  cucumber  or  wahoos,  under  the 
cool  shadow  of  the  mountains,  was  a  delight. 

I  hardly  saw  a  soul,  save  a  few  bare-footed,  bare- 
headed children  going  to  school  with  dinner  baskets  (but 
no  books),  filled  with  hard  apples  and  "cow-cumbers,"  as 
they  called  them.  They  were  bright  and  happy,  and  not 
bothered  with  "much  learning." 

Ten  miles  above  Jackson,  I  came  to  the  mouth  of 
Troublesome,  a  large  tributary  of  the  river.  Up  Trouble- 
some one  mile,  my  road  turned  up  the  Lost  Creek,  which 
is  followed  with  much  tribulation  for  nineteen  miles. 

I  could  not  bwt  think  that  all  Lost  creeks  and  roads 
emptied  into  Troublesome.  This  is  not  the  only  time  I 
got  to  Troublesome  by  the  Lost  Creek  route. 

I  stopped  at  the  post-office,  at  the  mouth  of  Lost 
Creek,  to  write  a  postal-card  home,  to  cheer  them  with 
the  news  of  my  safe  arrival  on  Troublesome.  There  I 
met  a  brave  Virginia  Methodist  preacher,  Mr.  McClure, 
who,  on  the  Saturday  before,  preached  in  'Squire  Friley's 
blacksmith-shop  and  four  souls  received  Christ.  I 
thought  that  shop  was  doing  better  service  than  some 
big,  fine  churches  I  know. 

Just  as  I  entered  the  mouth  of  Lost  Creek,  I  met  an 
old  friend,  Judge  Strong,  who  knew  me  when  a  youth 
in  the  army,  and  greeted  me  with  the  remark  that  he 
"had  not  seen  me  since  we  slept  on  a  rail."   Such  a  bed 


48  Galax  Gatherers,  a2td 

is  apt  to  make  an  impression  on  a  man.  The  Judge 
said,  "Troublesome  was  fifty-two  miles  long,  and  Lost 
Creek  nineteen,  and  they  are  full  of  sinners  to  the  head, 
and  no  church  on  either."  Let  the  Blue  Grass  people 
"look  on  this  picture,  then  on  that." 

Several  miles  up  the  Lost  Creek,  I  stopped  at  a 
man's  house  to  get  my  horse  fed  and  a  "bite"  for  my- 
self. These  mountain  people  are  hospitable  to  a  fault, 
and  Gran.  Noble  was  no  exception.  Fifteen  cents  was 
all  he  would  take  for  man  and  beast,  and  a  big  musk- 
melon  thrown  in.  He  and  Mrs.  Noble  had  eleven  chil- 
dren, most  of  them  grown,  all  well  and  hearty,  and 
never  had  a  doctor.     This  is  a  good  place  for  health. 

Here  I  met  Mr.  Nipper,  generally  called  Mr.  Napper, 
but  he  said  his  name  was  Napier.  See  how  we  get  our 
names.     Adam  would  not  know  his  children,  by  name. 

I  travelled  with  Mr.  Nipper-Napper,  up  to  the  mouth 
of  Ten  Mile  Creek,  and  all  the  rest  of  my  long  journey 
alone,  with  God  and  the  mountains.  Glorious  company ! 
We  would  all  be  better  if  we  had  such  company  oftener. 
What  more  elevating,  ennobling,  purifying,  than  the 
great  mountains.  And  God !  His  company  makes 
Heaven.    That  was  a  glorious  ride  in  such  company. 

The  shadows  of  the  great  mountains  were  falling  over 
the  valleys,  when  I  crossed  the  mountain  from  Lost 
Creek  to  Lot's  Creek,  and  still  Hazard  was  miles  away. 

Inquiries  from  the  natives  seemed  to  indicate  that 
Hazard  was  travelling  about  as  fast  as  I  was.  One 
bright  youth,  of  some  sixteen  summers,  gave  me  com- 
fort by  assuring  me  that  Hazard  was  a  "right  smart 
piece  ofif."     I  found  his  answer  correct,  as  I  rode  into 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      49 

the  little  mountain  town  at  7  P.  M.,  about  as  weary  as 
my  horse. 

Hazard's  size  is  entirely  out  of  proportion  to  its  repu- 
tation. No  town  of  its  size  in  the  State  has  such  a 
name.  It  is  the  synonym  of  violence  and  bloodshed. 
It  is  the  seat  of  the  French- Eversole  war,  in  which  some 
seventeen  men  were  killed,  and  for  four  years  all  law 
was  abolished.  And,  although  the  only  town  in  Perry 
County,  and  the  county  seat,  it  consists  of  only  a  court- 
house, jail,  four  stores  and  seventeen  families.  It  lies  in 
a  narrow  valley,  surrounded  by  mountains,  on  the  north 
fork  of  the  Kentucky  River. 

There  is  no  church  or  school-house  here,  and  never 
was.  War  was  inevitable.  Here  I  am  trying  to  preach 
the  Gospel  in  the  court-house,  and  teach  them  a  better 
way.      Pray  for  us. 


FROM  THE  TROUBLESOME. 

I  am  so  far  out  of  the  world,  I  have  never  heard 
whether  my  former  letter  reached  you  (or  the  public) 
or  not,  but  I  will  presume  on  your  goodness  and  give 
you  another  turn. 

I  am  glad  to  have  more  and  better  news  than  I  had 
before.  On  my  arrival  at  Hazard,  I  soon  found  the 
only  Presbyterian  in  the  county,  and  felt  a  little  more 
at  home.  I  also  soon  found  two  of  our  foreign  mission- 
aries, Brothers  Mickel  and  Mott.  Sawyers.  (The  natives 
call  us  all  "foreigners.")  Brother  Mickel  was  teaching 
the  County  Teacher's  Institute,  and  preaching  between 
times.     Brother  Sawyers  had  spent  most  of  the  summer 


50  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

here  in  the  service  of  our  Evangelistic  Committee.  He 
is  the  right  man  in  the  right  place — earnest,  energetic, 
sensible,  devoted,  and  not  afraid  of  things,  and  knows 
everybody  by  name  and  where  they  live. 

Though  very  weary  after  my  long  ride  from  Jackson, 
I  preached  that  night  in  the  court-house.  There  was 
nowhere  else  to  preach,  for  though  the  town  and  county 
are  some  seventy  years  old,  there  is  neither  church  nor 
school-house  here  and  never  was.  No  wonder  it  has 
such  a  bloody  record  of  seven  murders  in  one  year  and 
seventeen  in  four  years,  and  forty-six  orphan  children 
as  the  result  of  "the  war"  between  the  factions. 

The  congregation  was  not  very  large,  for  the  town 
has  only  some  seventeen  families,  and  some  of  them 
do  not  go  to  church,  and  some  are  afraid  to  go  at  night. 
The  prospect  was  about  as  cheerless,  I  thought,  as 
Noah's  experience  before  the  flood.  And  when  Brother 
Mickel  left  us  on  Friday,  only  hope  remained,  and  that 
a  faint  one.  People  unacquainted  with  such  work  have 
no  conception  of  its  difficulties.  The  people  generally 
have  no  use  for  any  religion,  and  less  for  our  kind. 

But  God's  word  "stands  sure,"  and  we  preached  and 
pleaded  His  promises.  He  pitied  and  forgave  our  un- 
belief, and  blessed  His  word.  In  one  week  we  succeeded 
in  organizing  a  Presbyterian  Church  of  thirty-eight 
members,  with  three  elders  and  one  deacon,  and  raised 
a  subscription  of  over  six  hundred  dollars  to  build  a 
church.  To  God  be  all  the  glory.  It  was  manifestly 
His  work. 

Judge  Combs,  the  leading  citizen  and  principal  owner 
of  the  town  and  country,  became  a  member  on  profes- 
sion, and  was  made  an  elder.     Dr.  William  T.  Wilson, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      51 

the  only  original  Presbyterian,  was  made  another,  and 
Jere  Mcintosh  the  third,  John  B.  Eversole,  whose 
father,  a  leading  lawyer,  was  murdered  during  "the 
war,"  was  made  a  deacon. 

On  Thursday  morning  I  crossed  the  mountain  beyond 
the  river  to  Big  Creek,  where  I  preached  until  Satur- 
day night,  in  an  open  log  school-house  to  good  congre- 
gations. Brother  Sawyers  was  always  present,  faithfully 
working  in  the  vineyard. 

Many  difficulties  had  to  be  overcome  or  submitted  to, 
no  one  to  help  us,  few  seats  except  rough  rails,  lamps 
without  chimneys,  and  few  of  them,  primeval  singing, 
and  a  small  choir  with  two  books.  But  God  prefers 
to  conquer  by  few,  and  gave  them  the  victory.  Some 
twenty-three  confessed  Christ,  and  most  of  them  joined 
the  Presbyterian  Church  and  received  baptism,  giving 
our  church  at  Hazard  some  sixty  members.  We  could 
have  organized  a  church  on  Big  Creek,  but  thought  best 
to  defer  it.  We  met  some  fine  people  there,  and  their 
hospitality  received  another  illustration. 

My  good  host  had  only  one  bed-room,  besides  the 
kitchen,  for  his  family  and  company,  and  he  turned  none 
away,  until  there  were  seven  of  us  in  one  little  room  and 
no  ventilation. 

On  Monday  I  left  Big  Creek  for  the  Troublesome,  a 
large  tributary  of  the  Kentucky  River.  Brother  Saw- 
yers preceded  me  and  preached  there  Sunday  night. 

I  passed  through  Hazard  and  was  glad  to  find  our 
people  in  earnest  about  beginning  their  church.  Judge 
Combs  gave  the  nicest  site  in  town,  overlooking  the 
valley  and  the  village.  They  expect  to  begin  to  build 
this  week.     The  ladies  were  at  work  to  raise  money  for 


52  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

the  organ.  There  is  only  one  in  this  county.  Twelve 
more  mountain  miles,  through  a  pouring  rain,  brought 
me  to  the  waters  of  the  Troublesome. 

The  so-called  road  from  the  head  of  Lot's  Creek  to 
the  mouth  of  Pigeon  Roost,  on  Troublesome,  is  as  bad 
as  I  ever  remember,  and  I  have  been  travelling  the  road 
to  Jordan  a  good  while.  The  ascent  to  the  summit  of 
Pike's  Peak  is  better,  to  my  personal  knowledge.  To 
make  matters  worse,  my  faithful  horse  lost  a  shoe,  and 
the  only  man  near  the  road  could  not  shoe  a  horse.  He 
only  shod  oxen.  Take  the  other  road  when  you  come 
this  way.  This  route  is  too  rough  and  too  lonesome. 
For  miles  I  saw  no  house,  nor  human  being;  even  the 
birds  had  fled  the  desolation  and  left  the  wilderness  voice- 
less.    To  a  man  who  loves  company,  it  was  awful. 

The  only  thing  I  heard  in  miles  was  the  rattle  of  a 
cow-bell ;  the  only  thing  I  saw  was  a  lonesome  log- 
cabin,  where  the  kitchen  and  dining-room,  family-room, 
bed-chamber,  library  and  parlor,  were  all  in  one  room, 
and  that  a  little  one. 

A  score  of  bare-headed,  bare-footed  children  coming 
from  school  announced  the  approach  of  civilization,  and 
exhibited  the  jewels  of  the  Octavias  of  the  hills.  Their 
hills  may  be  barren,  but  their  homes  are  not.  The  birds 
may  have  flown,  but  the  children  are  left. 

This  poor  and  sparsely-settled  county,  where  the 
people  can  only  live  along  narrow  valleys,  has  forty- 
seven  school  districts  in  it,  and  often  one  hundred  chil- 
dren in  a  district.  Here  is  the  necessity  and  oppor- 
tunity of  the  church  and  the  Gospel. 

This  whole  country  is  practically  without  either.    No 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      53 

churches  or  Sabbath  schools,  no  competent  preachers, 
for  this  great  region  full  of  souls. 

It  made  my  heart  sick  to  behold  them  now,  and  con- 
template them  in  the  future,  when  their  sorrowful  years 
will  outnumber  the  leaves  in  their  vast  unbroken  forests. 
Let  the  people  of  our  country  be  warned  of  their  danger 
and  admonished  of  their  duty  to  these  perishing  people. 
The  curse  of  poverty  and  the  desolation  of  sin  are  over 
them  all.      Without  our  help,  they  must  perish. 

The  evening  brought  me  to  the  waters  of  the  Trouble- 
some. This  is  a  large  stream,  over  fifty  miles  in  length, 
and  one  of  the  largest  tributaries  of  the  upper  Ken- 
tucky River.  It  passes  through  Knott,  Perry  and 
Breathitt  Counties.  In  all  its  long  course  there  is  only 
one  (unfinished)  church,  and  that  is  at  Hindman,  the 
county  seat  of  Knott  County. 

I  had  not  passed  this  way  since  a  youth,  when  I  fol- 
lowed the  bold  rider,  John  Morgan.  What  memories 
crowded  upon  my  heart  as  I  thought  upon  those  van- 
ished years !  How  changed  the  times,  and  men  and  me  ! 
Following  Morgan  then ;  following  Christ  now !  A  sol- 
dier of  the  Confederacy  then  ;  a  soldier  of  the  Cross  now ! 
Why  should  I  complain  of  the  march,  bivouac,  and  the 
privations  and  the  battle  now,  and  endure  it  all  so  cheer- 
fully then. 

These  were  lessons  from  real  life.  And  then  how  dif- 
ferent the  cause;  how  glorious  the  conflict;  how  certain 
the  victory  now !  A  few  more  days  on  Troublesome, 
and  endless  years  in  Paradise ! 


54  Galax  Gatherers,  and 


A  LITTLE  TRIP  UP  THE  BIG  SANDY. 

As  our  Field  Secretary,  Mr.  Murdoch,  was  fully  occu- 
pied at  our  new  college  in  the  Cumberlands,  I  thought 
some  one  ought  to  visit  our  missions  on  the  Big  Sandy 
River,  so  I  concluded  to  go  myself. 

A  hundred  miles  brought  me  to  Catlettsburg,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  I  was  glad  to  find  Brother  Boggs 
building  a  new  home,  more  in  proportion  to  his  size  and 
dignity  and  worth.     I  need  not  say  it  will  be  a  big  house. 

The  evening  train  on  the  Chattaroi  road  took  me  to 
its  terminus,  at  White  House,  fifty-four  miles  up  the 
river. 

The  lower  Sandy  Valley  is  beautiful,  with  its  rolling 
green  hills  and  picturesque  homes.  A  lovely  little  white 
chapel  was  honored  with  the  name  of  Bishop  Kava- 
naugh,  my  father's  friend  and  mine,  "who  being  dead, 
yet  speaketh." 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Tug  Fork  of  the  Big  Sandy  we 
passed  Louisa,  a  nice  town  in  a  green  valley.  It  was 
my  first  visit  to  Louisa,  though  once  before  I  started 
to  go  to  see  her  with  a  company  of  friends  in  1863,  but 
she  had  more  company  who  objected,  and  we  deferred 
our  call  until  later. 

About  10  o'clock  the  next  morning  Brother  Howes, 
our  missionary,  came  for  me  in  a  buggy.  We  crossed 
the  river  where  Mr.  Dollarhide  and  his  friend  lost  their 
lives  in  a  house-boat  saloon.  They  were  killed  by  some 
other  friends  who  drank  too  much  of  Dollarhide's  whis- 
key, it  is  said.     We  got  our  dinner  at  a  wayside  hotel, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      55 

and  drove  ten  miles  np  the  river  over  hills  and  through 
clouds  of  dust  to  Paintsville,  on  the  Big  Paint,  the  capi- 
tal of  Johnson  County. 

The  prospect  of  the  railroad  had  infused  new  life  and 
noise  into  the  quiet  mountain  village,  and  lots  had  gone 
up  to  the  city  prices.  We  had  only  time  to  call  on 
Brother  West,  of  the  M.  E.  Church,  and  passed  on  up 
the  Paint  and  Burnette's  Fork  to  Oil  Spring,  nine  miles 
farther,  over  a  rough  mountain  road.  I  saw  but  one 
thing  on  the  long  way  worthy  of  mention.  On  a  moun- 
tain brow  I  noticed  a  beautiful  stone  mausoleum.  It 
was  so  unique  and  unusual,  I  stopped  to  see  its  builder, 
the  aged  Charles  Green  Rule,  who  took  five  hundred 
hard-earned  dollars  to  honor  the  memory  of  his  faithful 
wife.  For  fifty  years  or  m;ore,  she  had  lovingly  and 
patiently  filled  her  humble  station  as  wife  and  mother, 
and  this  gentle  old  man  did  all  he  could  to  show  his 
appreciation  of  her  worth.     I  honor  him  for  it. 

Night  brought  us  to  the  humble  three-room  cottage 
of  Mr.  Howes,  and  I  needed  no  opiate  to  help  me  sleep 
that  night.  The  old  camp  ground  had  been  abandoned, 
but  a  large  school-house  accommodated  a  good  congre- 
gation of  the  attentive  mountaineers. 

I  preached  twice  on  the  Sabbath  to  large  crowds,  in 
spite  of  a  big  "foot-washing"  in  the  neighborhood.  After 
our  services  a  large  number  confessed  Christ.  Sunday 
night  I  returned  to  the  Oil  Spring,  where  there  are  a 
few  houses,  but  no  oil  spring.  Names  are  sometimes 
as  deceiving  as  some  people,  and  that  suggests  that 
Henry  Howes,  the  father  of  our  missionary,  a  venerable 
and  intelligent  old  man,  told  me  his  name  was  originally 


56  Galax  Gatheeers^  and 

Howe,  but  how  Howe  becames  Howes  he  did  not  know. 
So  Napier  has  become  Napper  and  Nipper  up  here. 

On  Sunday  I  preached  morning  and  evening  at  Oil 
Spring  to  fine  congregations,  largely  of  young  people. 
Rev.  Messrs.  Williams  and  Moore,  of  Salyersville,  came 
over  (eight  miles)  to  the  services,  and  gave  us  valuable 
assistance.  They  need  great  help  in  this  large  field. 
An  aged  native  told  me  that  Paint  Creek,  which  is  some- 
times a  river,  fifty  miles  long,  is  almost  destitute  of  in- 
telligent Gospel  preaching.  There  are  two  or  three 
churches  on  its  long  course,  belonging  to  brethren  who 
oppose  Sunday  schools  and  missions  and  education,  in 
spite  of  all  Gospel  teaching  and  God's  commandments. 
To  escape  this  suicidal  policy,  some  of  the  people  have 
organized  a  "Come-out  Society"  as  a  protest,  and  the 
only  church  on  Upper  Big  Paint  is  "Jack's  church," 
with  no  other  name  or  connection.  Jack  built  it  and 
runs  it,  I  trust,  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation 
of  his  neighbors. 

The  people  through  all  this  back  country  are  generally 
very  poor,  unable  to  provide  educated  preachers  or  teach- 
ers. As  a  general  thing,  they  are  not  so  lawless  and  vio- 
lent as  further  back  in  the  Cumberlands,  but  they  are 
sadly  in  need  of  help. 

It  is  next  to  impossible  to  get  any  one  to  conduct  a 
Sabbath  school  or  teach  the  scores  of  bright  mountain 
boys  and  girls.  If  ever  their  ancestors  possessed  it,  it 
is  a  "lost  art"  among  their  children.  It  is  pitiful  to  see 
thousands  of  these  strong,  bright,  resolute  mountain 
children  grow  up  with  little  or  no  training  to  make  them 
valuable  Christian  men  and  women.      Unless  they  get 


I 
-7. 

a 

as 

'A 


J. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlandees.      57 

help  from  beyond  their  mountains,  generations  of  them 
will  perish  in  their  sins.     Who  is  responsible? 

We  are  trying,  with  the  help  of  God  and  some  good 
people,  to  supply  this  crying  need,  and  send  the  B!  ;i  . 
of  Life  to  those  who  are  starving  at  our  doors. 


ONE  WOMAN. 

WHAT   CAN    SHE    DO? 

Listen,  and  I  will  answer  by  telling  you  what  one 
woman  did.  She  is  not  young,  nor  an  active  woman 
either,  nor  ri' h,  nor  very  attractive  in  person,  but  she 
is  more,  as  we  shall  see. 

Last  summer  she  determined  to  do  something  for  the 
helpless  in  our  own  land  and  while  she  could  neither 
preach,  nor  sing,  nor  sew,  nor  play  an  organ,  she  thought 
she  could  tell  the  'old,  old  story,  of  Jesus  and  His  love." 
Anyhow,  she  determined  to  try. 

She  selected  a  place  in  the  mountains,  without  a 
church  or  Sabbath  school  or  preacher.  It  was  far  from 
any  of  these,  and  over  twenty  miles  from  the  nearest 
town  or  doctor.  To  this  destitute  region  she  went, 
in  a  heavy  road-wagon,  because  she  couldn't  ride  horse- 
back ;  and  she  went  to  stay,  and  took  her  little  baggage 
with  her.  The  long  mountain  road  was  so  rough  she 
had  to  walk  much  of  the  way.  At  one  place,  the  wagon 
had  to  be  let  down  with  ropes. 

Here  she  found  a  home,  in  a  little  house  among  poor, 
but  clever,  people,  fhe  opened  her  Sabbath  school  and 
taught  all  the  childre  i  and  grown  people,  too,  who  came 


58  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

in  scores,  walking  to  hear  the  Gospel  story  from  loving 
lips.  She  had  no  conveyance,  so  had  to  walk  from  house 
to  house,  and  to  the  school-house,  often  through  mud 
and  water.     Her  Sabbath  school  ran  all  the  week. 

When  the  weather  got  so  cold  she  could  no  longer 
use  the  little  public  school-house,  she  opened  the  school 
and  church  in  her  one  little  room.  Here,  all  through 
the  winter,  she  taught  all  who  came,  the  "sweet  old 
story,"  and  sowed  the  seed  of  eternal  life  in  many  hungry 
hearts,  of  old  and  young. 

Experience  having  taught  her  some  simple  remedies 
for  the  sick,  she  became  the  substitute  for  the  doctor, 
and  relieved  many  a  suffering  body,  as  well  as  heart, 
where  there  was  neither  doctor  nor  preacher. 

Once  her  room  was  a  refuge  for  a  poor  girl  whose 
drunken  husband  wanted  to  kill  her.  Another  time  it 
was  an  asylum  for  a  poor  girl  whose  reason  had  fled. 
Again,  it  was  the  death-room  of  a  little  babe,  whose  life, 
she  alone,  watched  depart  to  its  Savior's  arms.  The 
exposure  and  anxiety  put  her  in  bed,  twenty-five  miles 
from  a  doctor,  or  a  pound  of  tea  or  coffee,  or  sugar,  or 
a  pint  of  coal-oil,  and  an  impassable  road  between. 

The  winter  was  most  rigorous,  even  for  the  moun- 
taineers, and  much  more  so  for  her,  after  many  years' 
residence  in  the  far  South.  But  God  brought  her  safely 
through  it  all,  with  many  tokens  of  His  love  and  care. 

The  opening  spring-time  and  glorious  summer  gave 
her  enlarged  opportunities,  and  with  the  love  of  all  those 
poor,  but  grateful,  people,  she  is  now  busily  trying  to 
win  souls  for  the  Master,  and  "lay  up  treasures  in 
heaven." 

God  only  knows  through  what  privations  and  hard- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      59 

ships  she  has  passed,  and  God  alone  can  adequately  re- 
ward her.  She  has  won  a  place  among  the  constella- 
tions of  heaven.  Nor  is  she  alone.  The  Society  of 
Soul  Winners  (which  sent  her  and  supports  her)  has 
twenty-five  consecrated  women  at  work  in  the  mountains 
of  North  Carolina  and  Kentucky. 

They  are  only  women,  some  of  them  timid,  delicate 
women,  but  they  have  the  "Omnipotent  power  of  weak- 
ness" to  sustain  them.  God  is  with  them  and  that  makes 
them  strong. 

Have  you  a  part  in  this  blessed  work?  Remember 
Paul  said:  "I  entreat  thee,  also,  to  help  those  women 
which  labored  with  me  in  the  Gospel." 


A  LITTLE  TRIP  TO  TURKEY  CREEK. 

Two  young  women  from  the  far  West  (Misses  Cun- 
ningham and  Foster,  from  Kansas  and  Iowa)  had  left 
their  homes  and  friends  and  gone,  at  the  Master's  com- 
mand, far  up  in  the  Cumberlands.  Strangers  in  a  strange 
land,  they  went  to  lead  the  little  Highland  children  to  a 
happier  life,  and  to  help  those  who  had  no  better  help- 
ers. There  were  three  public  schools  on  Turkey  Creek, 
in  Bloody  Breathitt,  but  neither  church  nor  Sabbath 
school.  Leaving  Brother  W.  S.  Trimble,  of  Virginia,  at 
Puncheon  Camp,  I  crossed  the  Kentucky  River  and 
rode  up  the  Turkey  Creek  until  dark,  before  I  found  the 
home  of  the  strange  teachers.  They  were  hidden  away, 
between  two  big  mountains,  in  a  home  where  only  one 
lone  woman  and  two  girls  were  keeping  house.     But  it 


60  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

was  a  hospitable  and  comfortable  home,  and  they  were 
welcome  and  happy. 

From  the  grand  prairies  of  their  sunset  homes  to  these 
wild  and  rugged  mountains  was  a  vast  change ;  but  its 
very  contrast  was  an  inspiration,  and  the  gorgeous  foliage 
of  the  Highlands  surpassed  anything  on  their  Western 
plains. 

They  were  well  and  contented,  and  busy  in  the  vine- 
yard, where  they  were  sadly  needed. 

Two  generous  Highlanders  had  offered  to  give  them 
a  beautiful  situation  for  their  mission-house  and  school, 
and  one  gave  them  half  of  his  store-house,  worth  one 
hundred  dollars,  towards  building  a  chapel.  The  next 
morning,  bright  and  early,  we  started  to  select  the  place 
for  their  future  home.  They  out-walked  my  horse,  but 
they  had  a  better  path  than  I  had — down  a  rocky  creek. 
But  they  were  walkers,  anyway.  The  natives  said  they 
were  the  "walkinest  women  on  Turkey  Creek."  Ten 
miles  is  moderate  exercise  for  them,  and  they  took  sun- 
shine into  scores  of  Highland  homes,  as  they  walked. 
But  you  remember  that  Jesus  "walked  in  Galilee,"  and 
doubtless  walked  with  them,  in  this  other  Galilee. 

We  found  the  place,  where  over  one  hundred  children 
were  in  one  school,  and  hundreds  more  not  very  far 
away.  Leaving  one  of  them  to  sweep  the  school-house, 
I  took  the  other  behind  me  and  rode  down  the  creek  to 
see  Mr.  Griffith,  who  gave  half  the  store.  Four  boys 
and  one  pretty,  sunny-haired  girl  furnished  this  home 
better  than  some  millionaires,  and  the  mother  herself 
looked  like  a  girl.      (She  was  married  at  fourteen.) 

An  engagement  at  Shoulder  Blade  compelled  me  to 
leave  Turkey  Creek,  so  bidding  all  good-bye,  I  crossed 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      61 

the  mountains  back  to  the  river,  at  the  mouth  of  Old 
Buck  Creek.  On  the  mountain  I  met  a  tall,  old  High- 
lander, walking  in  his  sock-feet,  and  carrying  his  shoes 
in  his  hand. 

From  the  top  of  the  mountain  the  view  of  the  river 
beggars  description.  God  had  painted  ten  thousand 
trees  in  crimson  and  purple  and  gold,  and  the  beautiful 
mountains  looked  like  giant  bouquets  aflame.  It  was 
worth  the  labor  and  fatigue  to  behold  such  a  display  of 
God's  infinite  wisdom  and  love  and  power.  I  pity  those 
who  never  had  a  view  of  such  a  glorious  panorama  of 
heaven  and  earth. 

Crossing  the  river,  I  reached  Shoulder  Blade  by  9 
A.  M.  Brother  Trimble  came  at  10,  and  preached  a 
fine  sermon  to  a  good  congregation,  for  Saturday.  He 
never  had  more  respectful,  or  attentive,  listeners. 

We  were  glad  to  meet  here  three  of  our  faithful  lady 
mission  teachers,  who  had  crossed  the  mountains  to  hear 
the  sermon — Mrs.  Andrews,  from  Haddix  Fork,  and 
Misses  Houston  and  Sights,  from  Puncheon  Camp.  I 
was  glad  to  find  the  new  mission-house  here  completed 
and  lumber  on  the  ground  to  finish  the  chapel  and 
school  building,  all  given  by  a  generous  lady  in  Maine. 
The  new  college  on  Puncheon  Camp  is  covered  (with 
twenty  thousand  shingles),  a  fine  bell  surmounting  it, 
and  the  interior  being  rapidly  finished.  It  will  accom- 
modate three  hundred  or  more  of  the  Highland  lads  and 
lassies,  when  completed. 

Evening  found  Brother  Trimble  and  me  six  miles  up 
the  beautiful  river,  at  Canoe.  We  received  a  hearty 
welcome  by  our  teachers  there,  Misses  Annie  Peck  and 
Nannie  Brcnyn,  two  splendid  women  from  North  Caro 


62  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

lina.  All  were  delighted  over  the  prospect  of  a  fine 
school  here,  in  a  large  new  house,  presented  to  us  by  a 
noble  woman  in  Atlanta. 

In  spite  of  a  funeral  nearby,  Brother  Trimble  had  a 
fine  congregation  in  our  church  at  lo  A.  M.  (Nothing 
can  compete  with  funerals  in  the  mountains,  which  al- 
ways occur  at  this  season.)  Having  an  appointment  at 
Elkatawa,  I  had  to  leave  Brother  Trimble  at  Canoe, 
and  ride  and  walk  ten  miles  over  the  mountains  and 
down  Cane  Creek  by  dark.  Between  the  rain  above 
and  the  creek  below,  I  got  pretty  wet,  but  Brother  Evans 
had  a  fire  in  his  kitchen  stove  at  our  mission-house.  So 
I  soon  dried  out  and  preached  in  the  Kessler  Chapel  to 
a  fine  congregation,  who  walked  through  a  pouring  rain 
and  pitch  darkness,  from  far  and  near.  Such  people,  I 
hope,  will  occupy  front  seats  in  heaven. 

Have  you  an  interest  in  this  effort  to  help  them. 


A  VISIT  TO  RAVEN  ROOST. 

One  of  our  faithful  missionaries  had  been  laboring 
for  more  than  a  year  in  a  difficult  and  discouraging  field, 
and  I  had  never  been  able  to  visit  him,  until  lately. 

After  a  journey  of  a  hundred  miles,  I  found  him,  at 
nightfall,  in  a  little  mountain  home  among  his  grateful 
parishioners. 

Edwin  Preston  was  reared  in  a  very  different  home 
in  a  beautiful  city,  but  love  of  Christ  and  His  lost  chil- 
dren constrained  him  to  give  up  all  things  for  this  hard 
life  and  service.  His  first  mission  was  among  the  Mor- 
mons of  Utah,  then  he  came  to  the  mountains  of  Ken- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      63 

tiicky.  Since  he  left  his  mother's  home,  she  has  gone 
to  her  heavenly  mansion,  leaving,  to  bless  the  world, 
three  sons  to  preach  the  gospel  and  one  daughter  to 
carry  it  to  the  heathen  beyond  the  seas.  What  a  diadem 
will  grace  that  mother's  brow  in  heaven! 

A  beautiful  Sabbath  climbed  the  mountains  of  Breath- 
itt and  lighted  up  the  deep  valleys  of  the  Quicksand 
River.  For  quiet  and  comfort,  Mr.  Preston  had  built 
himself  a  little  house  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  five 
hundred  feet  high,  and  called  it  Raven  Roost.  I  do  not 
see  how  he  ever  got  the  planks  up  there,  but  it  required 
only  a  few,  as  it  had  only  one  little  room,  and  no  ceiling, 
finishing  or  furnishing,  and  cost  only  $15.00.  He  made 
his  chair  and  bedstead  of  little  saplings  which  grew  on 
the  mountain.  It  was  a  very  little  house,  but  big  enough 
for  God  and  him,  and  no  more  is  needed  to  be  happy. 
I  am  not  as  young  as  Mr,  Preston,  and  I  didn't  see  how 
I  could  ever  get  up  that  mountain,  but  I  determined  to 
see  Raven  Roost,  and  I  went.  It  repaid  the  labor  to 
reach  it. 

The  world  was  beneath  us,  and  only  God  and  the  stars 
above;  or  only  the  stars,  for  God  was  there,  on  that 
"Mount  of  Privilege."  Below,  on  every  side,  was  a 
world  of  sin  and  sorrow  and  suffering.  Around  were 
only  God  and  His  birds  and  flowers  and  forests.  It  was 
good  to  be  there.  But  the  sun  was  climbing  over  the 
mountains,  and  a  congregation  gathering  up  the  Quick- 
sand at  the  Hounshell  Mission,  so,  reluctantly,  we  had 
to  come  down  into  the  world  again,  and  try  and  per- 
suade its  sorrowful  people  to  seek  a  better  home  in 
heaven. 

It  was  some  three  miles  up  the  little  crystal  river  to 


64  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

the  school-house.  There  is  no  church  in  that  part  of 
the  country,  and  only  one  on  the  river,  in  forty  miles. 
Mr.  Preston  "cut  across"  the  mountains  on  foot  and  I 
rode  around  them,  up  the  river.  At  lo  A.  M.  the  large 
school-house  was  crowded  with  young  and  old,  nearly 
every  one  of  whom  walked.  Over  fifty  of  them  were 
Sunday  school  children,  the  pupils  of  a  noble  Christian 
lady  who  had  just  swapped  Washington  City  for  the 
Quicksand,  and  was  delighted  with  the  trade.  She  had 
gained  much  more  than  she  ha3^  lost — the  priceless  joy 
of  self-denying  service  for  Him  who  had  denied  Himself 
for  her. 

After  the  Sabbath  school  exercises  and  a  good  talk 
by  Mr.  Preston,  I  tried  to  tell  them  the  "old,  old  story" 
— old  to  the  world,  but  new  to  many  of  them.  They  lis- 
tened with  deep  interest,  in  spite  of  uncomfortable  seats 
and  sundry  interruptions.  (The  pretty  babies  and  the 
boys'  dogs  will  insist  on  coming  to  Sunday  school.)  At 
the  close  of  the  service  nearly  every  one  in  the  house 
came  forward  to  express  his  love  for  God  and  faith  in 
Christ  as  a  Savior.  Doubtless  there  was  joy  in  heaven 
that  day,  as  well  as  in  Hounshell  School-house  on  the 
Quicksand.  These  are  the  children  of  the  same  loving 
Savior  who  once  walked  on  the  mountains  of  Galilee, 
and  still  loves  to  walk  with  His  humblest  servants. 

After  the  morning  service,  "Aunt  Polly  Ann"  gave  us 
a  good  dinner,  and  put  heaven  deeper  in  her  debt.  This 
aged  Highland  mother  and  grandmother  opened  her 
heart  and  home  to  the  strange  teacher  from  Washington 
City,  and  gave  her  the  best  things  in  both.  Heaven  will 
repay  her  gloriously,  when  He  says,  "Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren, 


.     Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      65 

ye  have  done  it  unto  me.  Come  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world." 

But  the  sun  and  work  on  Quicksand  do  not  wait;  so 
we  had  to  follow  Mr.  Preston  four  miles  down  the  Dc?  u- 
tiful  river  to  another  school-house,  where  he  has  another 
mission. 

After  the  Sabbath  school,  I  preached  again  to  a  full 
house  and  many  more  expressed  their  trust  in  Jesus, 
who  asks  no  more  to  "save  a  poor  sinner."  It  was  late 
and  hot,  but  we  had  to  cross  a  mountain  to  Jackson 
before  night,  so  we  had  to  say  good-bye  to  Raven  Roost 
and  its  master  and  builder.  But  we  had  the  joy  of 
knowing  that  the  Master  and  Builder  of  heaven  and 
earth  will  never  leave  Raven  Roost  nor  the  humblest 
home  and  toiler  on  the  Quicksand. 


A  VISIT  TO  SHOULDER  BLADE. 

The  old  Highland  settlers  certainly  had  a  genius  for 
queer  names.  Shoulder  Blade  is  the  name  they  gave 
to  a  beautiful  stream  between  steep  mountains  on  the 
upper  Kentucky  River.  Just  above  Shoulder  Blade  is 
Old  Buck  Creek,  and  just  below  is  Puncheon  Camp,  and 
no  one  knows  how  or  when  they  ever  got  these  names. 
Like  those  little  streams,  they  "go  on  forever."  .  How 
important  are  the  little  things  of  life.     They  still  go  on. 

Well,  I  had  never  had  time  to  visit  Shoulder  Blade, 
though  often  invited.  They  had  no  church,  nor  Sab- 
bath school,  nor  prayer-meeting,  and  wanted  them  all. 
We  had  sent  a  consecrated  lady  there  to  teach  the  chil- 


66  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

dren  and  conduct  the  Sabbath  schools,  and  she  met  a 
warm  welcome  from  the  nntutored  Highlanders,  the 
most  hospitable  of  all  people. 

I  left  home  on  the  6:45  A.  M.  train.  After  a  brief 
visit  to  the  new  mission  teachers  at  Athol  (Miss  Reeves 
and  Miss  Young),  from  New  Jersey,  I  reached  Elka- 
tawa  late  in  the  evening.  There  I  met  Mr.  Granville 
Hounshell,  who  had  come  from  the  Shoulder  Blade  to 
take  me  to  his  home.  Mr.  Morton,  our  missionary,  at 
Elkatawa,  would  not  let  us  go  until  we  saw  how  nice  a 
supper  his  young  Georgia  bride  could  prepare.  It  was 
fit  for  a  king,  though  we  were  only  poor  wayfarers.  But 
we  had  royal  appetites. 

At  7  P.  M.  we  started  over  the  mountains,  six  miles 
to  the  Shoulder  Blade.  Mr.  Hounshell  was  good  enough 
to  let  me  ride  the  best  saddle-horse  (which  was  a  mule). 
It  was  dark  before  we  reached  the  mud-tunnel,  a  deep, 
gloomy  gorge  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  it  was 
bedtime  when  we  reached  Mr.  Hounshell's  hospitable 
home ;  but  every  soul  was  sitting  up,  on  the  porch,  wait- 
ing for  us,  even  the  babies. 

The  Sabbath  sun  rose  behind  the  clouds,  which  soon 
began  to  pour  water  down  the  valleys,  and  on  the  thirsty 
patches  of  corn  and  beans.  We  were  up  early,  and  had 
breakfast  and  visitors  before  6  o'clock.  A  rift  in  the 
clouds  at  10  A.  M.  let  a  crowd  fill  the  school-house,  who 
walked  there  through  the  mud  and  rain  to  hear  the  Gos- 
pel. I  preached  my  best,  and  was  sorry  it  was  not 
better.  But  God  honored  His  Word,  and  many  con-, 
fessed  their  Savior,  some  for  the  first  time. 

At  2  P.  M.  the  house  was  filled  again,  though  a  big 
rain  and  thunder-storm  prevailed  most  of  the  evening. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      67 

Lewis  Hensley  and  William  Little,  two  of  our  native 
evangelists,  spoke  earnestly  to  their  neighbors  about  the 
great  salvation  for  the  poor,  as  well  as  the  rich.  I  wish 
all  men  were  as  earnest  as  these  humble  heralds  of  the 
hills,  and  as  eloquent.  I  "added  a  word,"  and  left  Mrs. 
Andrews  to  teach  the  Sunday  school,  which  included 
about  all  of  the  congregation. 

But  before  I  left  they  promised  to  give  the  prettiest 
site  on  the  Shoulder  Blade  for  a  church,  and  cut  and 
saw  the  logs  and  put  them  on  the  ground  and  build  a 
church,  if  we  would  give  them  the  doors  and  windows 
and  nails,  and  send  them  a  man  to  show  them  how  to 
build  the  house. 

Night  found  me  back  at  Elkatawa,  at  hospitable 
Brother  Morton's  new  and  comfortable  manse,  the  gift 
of  a  wise  and  liberal  Christian  I  never  saw. 

I  might  add  that  he  gave  the  church  also.  Such 
people  are  as  rare  as  they  are  blessed. 

An  early  train  took  me  down  to  Glencairn  the  next 
morning,  where  I  stopped  to  see  how  Miss  Kathleen 
Askew,  from  Atlanta,  was  doing.  She  had  exchanged 
a  city  school  for  the  little  Highland  Mission,  in  the  deep 
canyon  at  Glencairn.  Of  course,  she  was  busy  and 
happy,  though  a  stranger  in  this  land.  He  promised  to 
be  with  her  until  the  end  of  the  world,  and  He  was 
there. 

The  bright-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  little  Highlanders  were 
happy  to  have  such  a  teacher,  and  showed  how  even 
they  could  learn,  if  they  had  a  chance.  One  wee  little 
lassie  had  learned  a  page  in  the  Catechism  every  day  the 
past  week.  In  spelling  and  reading  and  singing  they 
showed  remarkable  aptitude.      They  had  no  desks  to 


68  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

cipher  on,  so  they  all  got  down  on  their  knees  and 
ciphered  on  the  benches.  There  is  nothing  too  hard  for 
genius  to  solve,  and  Homer  and  Paul  and  Grover,  with 
their  sisters,  were  there  on  their  knees  "working  sums." 

At  half-past  one  Monday  afternoon  I  preached  to  the 
children  and  a  few  grown  people  who  left  the  fields  to 
listen  to  the  "old,  old  story."  They  were  all  very  nice 
and  proper,  and  fairly  well  clothed,  though  the  children 
were  all  barefooted  but  one,  and  all  had  hats  but  one. 
There  was  not  a  homely  child  in  the  school,  and  several 
of  them  were  beautiful.     All  are  beautiful  to  God. 

Evening  brought  me  to  the  Natural  Bridge,  where  I 
took  the  train  for  my  home.  On  the  train  I  met  the 
venerable  Dr.  Saunders,  our  missionary  at  Buckhorn, 
going  to  Danville  and  Louisville  on  business.  He  is 
now  past  seventy,  and  entirely  blind,  yet  he  preached  at 
Crockettsville  yesterday,  and  rode  twenty  miles  through 
the  mountains,  on  a  led-horse,  and  expects  to  do  the 
same  on  next  Saturday,  and  preach  next  Sunday.  How 
such  a  man  shames  the  rest  of  us.  But  there  are  few 
such  men  left.  May  God  multiply  their  number.  The 
church  and  the  world  need  them. 

Have  you  a  part  in  this  blessed  work  of  giving  the 
gospel  to  our  own  long-neglected  countrymen?  If  not, 
why  not?    Your  help  is  needed,  both  for  you  and  them. 


"PROCTOR  BILL." 

Those  familiar  with  the  history  of  Jere  McCauley 
will  not  be  surprised  at  this  story  of  Proctor  Bill.  In 
many  respects  they  are  very  similar. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      69 

Some  years  ago  I  had  an  appointment  to  preach  in  a 
little  mountain  school-house  on  the  Ivy  Patch  Creek,  in 
Lee  County,  Kentucky.  On  going  there  I  found  that 
Rev.  William  Little,  alias  "Proctor  Bill,"  had  an  appoint- 
ment also  for  the  same  time.  I  had  never  met  him,  and 
knew  nothing  of  his  character. 

He  was  a  typical  Highlander,  big-boned,  erect,  reso- 
lute in  word  and  action,  and  with  deep-set,  piercing  eyes 
which  showed  a  dauntless  spirit.  I  insisted  on  his 
preaching,  but  he  modestly  and  firmly  declined,  saying 
he  was  but  an  ignorant  mountain  man,  and  would  not 
preach  where  there  were  others  to  do  it. 

I  preached  a  short  sermon,  and  then  asked  him  and 
Mr.  Griffiths,  our  young  mission  teacher,  to  speak  a 
word  to  the  children.  To  this  modest  request  he  yielded 
a  reluctant  assent. 

I  shall  never  forget  his  manner,  or  his  matter.  Both 
were  peculiar  and  unique.  He  spoke  with  tremendous 
earnestness  and  energy.  Pie  was  Boanerges,  in  action. 
No  one  could  doubt  his  sincerity,  nor  his  courage,  yet 
his  language  was  as  simple  as  a  child's,  for  he  knew  no 
other,  being  an  unlearned  man.  It  was  the  speech  of 
the  common  people,  who  heard  Jesus  gladly.  It  was 
largely  the  language  of  the  Bible. 

It  was  in  the  summer-time,  but  he  had  on  a  suit  of 
winter  clothes,  and  the  effort  of  speaking  covered  him 
with  perspiration.  Pie  was  profoundly  moved,  and  he 
moved  the  people  as  few  college  men  could  have  done. 

As  to  the  matter  of  his  discourse,  I  was  as  much  sur- 
prised. It  was  largely  Scriptural  and  entirely  evangeli- 
cal. His  quotations  were  apt  and  correct,  and  the  won- 
der grew  when  I  learned  how  and  where  he  was  reared. 


70  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

I  shall  never  forget  his  introduction.  As  near  as  I 
can  recollect  it,  he  said:  "My  friends,  you  know  me. 
I  was  born  and  bred  in  this  country.  On  this  very  spot 
where  this  school-house  stands  I  once  sold  and  drank 
whiskey.  Left  an  orphan  by  a  good  father,  I  had  no 
one  to  teach  me  to  do  right.  My  mother  was  a  godless 
woman.  I  never  heard  her  pray  in  my  life.  When  a 
boy,  I  tried  to  kill  Bob  Hill  for  striking  a  smaller  boy. 
As  I  grew  older  and  larger  I  grew  more  wicked  and 
desperate.  In  drinking,  gambling  and  fighting  I  was  a 
leader.  Just  over  this  hill  I  tried  to  kill  a  man  for  an 
insult.  I  was  tried  and  sent  to  the  penitentiary  for 
three  years.  I  had  never  learned  to  read,  and  I  never 
owned  a  Bible.  I  neither  feared  God  nor  regarded 
man. 

"In  the  penitentiary,  I  was  compelled  to  attend  the 
prison  worship  on  the  Sabbath  day.  A  Mr.  Morrison 
preached,  and  God  sent  his  words  to  my  heart.  I  felt 
I  was  a  lost  sinner,  and  for  twelve  days  I  could  neither 
eat  nor  sleep.  I  lay  in  my  cell,  the  most  miserable  of 
men,  and  cried  to  God  for  pardon.  Blessed  be  His 
name,  He  heard  my  cry  and  pardoned  my  sins  and 
saved  my  soul.  I  rose  up  a  new  man,  and  determined 
to  read  God's  Word.  I  was  then  thirty-nine  years  old, 
but,  by  hard  work,  I  learned  to  read,  and  determined  to 
tell  others  what  he  had  done  for  my  soul.  This  is  why 
I  am  here  to-day."  This  is  only  a  bare  outline  of  what 
he  said. 

It  was  a  remarkable  discourse  and  produced  a  pro- 
found impression.  Men  knew  he  was  honest  and  earnest, 
and  not  afraid  to  say  what  he  believed.  Since  the  day 
he  left  the  penitentiary,  he  has  been  trying  to  preach  the 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      71 

Gospel  in  the  very  country  which  knew  his  sin  and 
shame.  Men  hear  him  and  wonder  at  the  wonderful 
change.  Many  have  been  led  to  Christ  through  his 
ministry. 

Having  no  horse,  he  walks  across  the  mountains  to  his 
appointments.  Having  no  money,  he  has  no  books  nor 
clerical  clothes.  His  earthly  possessions  consist  of  a 
wife  and  four  little  girls  and  a  boy,  on  a  rented  moun- 
tain farm.  This  he  works  through  the  week  and  walks 
to  his  appointments  on  Sundays,  sometimes  fifteen 
miles. 

To  enable  him  to  give  more  time  to  his  work,  and 
to  help  him  clothe  his  wife  and  children,  we  have,  for  a 
few  years,  been  paying  him  a  little  salary — a  few  dollars 
a  month.      It  is  the  first  he  ever  received. 

Last  Saturday  he  came  to  Glen  Athol  for  me  to  preach 
for  him  at  the  Middle  Fork  Church,  where  he  and  Mr. 
Boyd  were  holding  a  meeting.  I  gladly  went  and 
found  a  multitude  of  Highlanders  assembled,  almost  all 
of  whom  had  walked  for  miles  over  the  mountains.  He 
had  begun  the  service  half  an  hour  before  I  could  reach 
the  church,  at  lo  o'clock  in  the  morning,  on  a  half- 
broken  mule. 

For  an  hour  and  a  half  the  crowded  church  listened 
with  profound  interest.  "Proctor  Bill"  had  gathered 
them  before,  and  led  the  singing.  At  the  close,  I  was 
impelled  to  give  an  invitation  to  all  who  would  accept 
Christ  as  a  Savior,  and  over  twenty-five  persons  came 
forward  for  the  first  time.  It  was  a  sight  to  make  "joy 
in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God." 

Most  of  them  were  young  men  and  women,  and  no 
country  can  show  a  handsomer  company  than  they  were. 


72  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

I  was  reminded  of  General  Howard's  astonishment  at 
the  appearance  of  these  Highlanders,  when  he  first  came 
to  visit  our  missions.  He  said  he  never  saw  handsomer 
young  people  anywhere,  in  all  his  wide  experience.  Ex- 
posure and  hardship  soon  make  many  of  them  prema- 
turely old. 

After  the  morning  service  I  went  home  with  "Proctor 
Bill"  to  dinner.  It  was  my  first  visit.  I  had  never  seen 
a  member  of  his  family  except  his  wife,  who  confessed 
Christ  at  Frozen  Creek  when  I  organized  that  church. 
I  rode  a  mile  or  more  up  the  Kentucky  River,  with  a- 
guide,  crossed  the  river,  and  found  the  little  cabin  of 
two  rooms,  in  a  corn-field.  It  stood  in  a  narrow  valley, 
between  a  steep  mountain  and  a  deep  river,  and  all  of  his 
four  acres  were  in  corn,  to  feed  his  family.  He  had 
built  the  cabin  himself,  of  rough  boards.  I  was  re- 
minded of  the  song  I  heard  in  Jere  McCauley's  Mis- 
sion in  New  York  City:  "My  Father  is  rich  in  houses 
and  lands ;  with  Jesus  my  Savior,  I'm  the  child  of  a 
King." 

Recently  his  little  boy,  Tom,  was  drowned  in  the 
rV^r,  and  the  shadow  had  not  yet  gone  from  that  sor- 
rowful home.  But  it  was  a  home  of  Christian  faith  and 
submission  to  God's  will,  and  a  home  of  prayer. 

Though  among  the  poorest  I  ever  entered,  God  hon- 
ored it  with  His  presence,  and  made  it  "a  palace  of  the 
King." 

At  2  P.  M.  I  preached  again  to  a  large  congregation, 
who  had  walked  miles  away  to  dinner,  and  then  re- 
turned. It  was  a  typical  Highland  congregation.  Not 
a  foreigner  was  among  them.  Most  of  the  men  wore 
no  coats,  but  they  were  strong  and  masterful  men.    The 


Sketches  of  the  Amerioait  Highlanders.      73 

women  were  modestly  and  plainly  dressed,  generally, 
with  no  effort  to  be  in  the  fashion,  except  such  as  their 
grandmothers  had  set.  Their  earnestness  and  simplicity, 
their  desire  for  better  things,  appealed  to  my  heart,  and 
it  was  a  privilege  and  pleasure  to  preach  to  them. 

To  thousands  of  such,  beyond  all  churches  and  Gos- 
pel privileges,  the  faithful  Soul  Winners  are  carrying 
the  Bread  of  Life.  To  those  who  help,  God  has  prom- 
ised a  "kingdom  in  heaven."  Are  you  among  the  num- 
ber who  will  be  so  honored  and  blessed? 


CHENOWEE. 

Among  hundreds  of  noble  women  who  have  helped  in 
the  Soul  Winners'  Mission  work  was  Miss  Clemmie 
Patton,  daughter  of  Rev.  Dr.  J.  G.  Patton,  of  Decatur, 
Georgia.  During  her  service  in  the  Cumberlands,  her 
distinguished  father  made  her  a  visit,  and  the  following 
letter  graphically  describes  his  experience: 

"On  the  29th  of  July  I  left  my  home,  in  Decatur, 
Georgia,  for  the  mountains  of  Kentucky.  About  6 
o'clock  of  the  next  day,  my  daughter,  who  had  preceded 
me  several  weeks,  flagged  the  train  at  Chenowee,  in 
Breathitt  County.  This  spot  I  shall  never  forget.  Only 
one  little  house  to  be  seen,  and  that  some  distance  away, 
and  just  in  front  of  us  was  the  mouth  of  a  great  tunnel. 
There  by  the  track,  in  the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  moun- 
tains, holding  the  hand  of  a  little  mountain  girl,  stood 
my  child,  anxious  to  receive  me.  Along  the  way  over 
the  mountain  for  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  place  where  I 


74  Galax  Gatheeers,  and 

was  to  stay,  the  people,  old  and  young,  gathered  to  bid 
me  welcome,  for  they  had  been  prepared  for  my  coming. 
So  soon  as  we  reached  the  house  of  Mr.  Robert  Cundiff 
I  was  made  to  feel  at  home.     I  shall  always  remember 
that  dear  family  for  their  kind  treatment  of  me.    Nobler 
spirits  do  not  live  in  the  great  State  of  Kentucky.    That 
night  my  rest  was  sweet.      On  the  morning  of  the  next 
day  I  walked  out,  and  oh !  the  mountains !  the  moun- 
tains !    Ruskin  says  they  are  the  'beginning  and  the  end 
of  all  natural  scenery.'     I  love  the  mountains.     They 
show  forth  God's  might.      They  tell  of  His  protecting 
power,  for  'As  the  mountains  are  round  about  Jerusalem 
so  the  Lord  is  round  about  them  that  fear  Him.'    Jesus 
spent  much  of  His  time  in  the  solitude  of  the  moun- 
tains.     He  preached  His  first  sermon  on  a  mountain; 
He  fed  multitudes  on  the  mountain;  He  was  crucified 
on  a  mountain ;  He  was  transfigured  on  a  mountain,  and 
He  left  this  earth  from  the  top  of  a  mountain.     If  you 
want  to  rest,  go  to  the  mountains.      If  you  want  to 
grow  strong,  climb  the  mountains.     If  you  want  to  get 
back  to  nature,  roam  the  mountains.      If  you  would 
have  your  heart  stirred  with  the  sympathy  and  com- 
passion of  Jesus,  see  and  talk  with  the  people  of  the 
mountains.     The  people  in  these  parts  have  been  much 
misrepresented.      That  there  are  vicious  people  here   [ 
will  not  deny.      But  such  is  the  case  everywhere,  even 
in  Lexington,  Louisville  and  Atlanta.     The  people  who 
live  in  the  plains  cannot  boast  of  their  natural  goodness 
over  those  who  live  in  the  mountains.     Wherever  differ- 
ence exists,  we  ask  what  makes   it?       Paul  answers, 
'Grace.'     Where  is  boasting  then?    To  know  the  people 
even  in  Breathitt  County,  you  will  be  convinced  that 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlandees.      75 

they  are  naturally  kind,  hospitable  and  true.  They  are 
almost  entirely  without  education,  in  the  technical  sense 
of  the  term,  but  that  is  for  the  want  of  an  opportunity. 
I  can  safely  say  this  much :  That  for  native  mental 
strength,  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  mountains  will  com- 
pare favorably  with  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  cities.  All 
they  need  is  an  opportunity,  and  their  daughters  would 
grace  the  most  cultured  society,  and  their  boys  would 
make  leaders  among  men.  They  are  wanting  in  Chris- 
tianity to  an  alarming  extent,  but  where  does  the  fault 
lie?  They  have  a  few  mountain  preachers,  but  in  many 
cases  they  are  immoral  men,  and  generally  wholly  illiter- 
ate. The  people  are  starving  for  the  'Bread  of  Life,'  and 
they  eagerly  take  it  when  it  is  given  them.  The  fields 
are  literally  'white  to  the  harvest.'  During  our  ten 
days'  meeting  at  Chenowee,  the  people  came,  some  of 
them  walking  ten  miles  across  the  mountains.  I  could 
realize  in  a  measure  how  the  Master  felt  when  He  stood 
before  the  hungry  multitudes.  I  never  preached  to  a 
people  more  orderly,  more  attentive,  and  scarcely  ever 
to  those  so  eager  to  hear  the  Gospel.  During  those  ten 
days,  without  excitement,  forty  professed  faith  in  Christ:. 
It  was  a  rare  privilege  to  labor  among  such  people. 
What  an  opportunity  for  the  Christian  Church  of 
America!  The  situation  is  unique.  It  is  one  that  jus- 
tifies the  policy  of  the  'Society  of  Soul  Winners,'  under 
the  leadership  of  Dr.  Gucrrant,  of  Wilmore,  Kentucky, 
the  utilizing  of  the  Christian  forces  that  are  available 
from  all  the  evangelical  denominations  in'  the  country. 
Some  say  that  this  is  irregular;  true,  but  if  the  work 
cannot  be  accomplished  in  a  regular  way,  it  must  bfe 
done  in  an  irregular  way.     What  these  dear  people  need 


76  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

first  of  all  is  salvation.  Christ  they  must  have,  or  perish, 
and  those  who  are  trying  to  give  them  Christ  should  be 
encouraged.  It  is  very  easy  to  criticise  methods,  but 
when  the  cry  of  these  people  fill  your  soul  with  Christ- 
like compassion  you  rejoice  that  they  are  fed  by  whom- 
soever it  may  be  done.  From  Chenowee,  I  went  over 
the  mountain  to  Puncheon  Camp,  and  there  I  found  the 
people  of  that  section,  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Guer- 
rant,  erecting  a  large  school-building.  The  blessing 
which  this  school  will  be  to  the  boys  and  girls  of  the 
mountains  cannot  be  estimated.  Money  sent  to  Dr. 
Guerrant  for  this  purpose  will  pay  large  dividends,  im- 
perishable for  this  life  and  the  life  to  come.  Any  of  our 
ministers  who  will  spend  a  week  preaching  to  the  moun- 
tain people  next  summer  will  receive  inspiration  and 
hope  in  the  Gospel  here,  and  bright  stars  in  their  crowns 
hereafter.  Consecrated  young  men  and  women  who 
would  spend  a  profitable  vacation  next  summer  cannot 
do  better  than  to  work  among  the  needy,  and  most 
appreciative  people  of  the  mountains.  I  cannot  put  the 
truth  too  strongly.  If  the  vast  multitudes  in  the  moun- 
tains of  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  North  Carolina  and  Vir- 
ginia and  Georgia  could  be  brought  to  Christ  and  their 
strong  characters  developed  for  Him,  what  a  force  would 
be  added  to  the  army  of  the  Lord,  and  what  an  advan- 
tage gained  in  our  great  effort  to  take  the  world  for 
God." 


ON  THE  UPPER  QUICKSAND. 

I  feel  confident  if  Christian  people  could  see  what  I 
have  seen  here  in  two  weeks,  a  new  order  of  things 


Sketches  of  the  American'  Highlanders.      77 

would  be  set  in  motion  to  save  these  perishing  people; 
and  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars  instead  of  hundreds, 
would  be  given  to  the  cause ;  and  scores  of  faithful  evan- 
gelists would  fill  those  mountains,  instead  of  "here  and 
there  a  traveller,"  a  lone  missionary,  trying  to  do  the 
work  of  a  dozen  men. 

Let  me  lend  your  big  congregation  my  eyes  for  twenty 
minutes,  and  they  will  see  what  moved  my  heart,  and  I 
hope  will  move  theirs. 

On  Wednesday,  the  9th  of  August,  in  company  with 
Rev.  Henry  E.  Partridge,  of  Florida,  and  Mr.  John  J. 
Barret  (cornetist),  of  Louisville,  and  my  little  boy,  Willie, 
I  started  to  the  foreign  field  on  the  Upper  Quicksand 
River,  in  the  Kentucky  Cumberlands. 

The  grand  canon  of  the  Red  River  and  the  hundred 
miles  of  forest-clad  mountains  was  the  first  revelation 
to  the  Floridian  and  Louisvillian.  It  was  worth  the 
long  journey  from  the  sand  and  sunshine  of  the  great 
peninsula  of  the  St.  John's. 

That  night  Brother  Partridge  preached  an  excellent 
sermon  to  the  united  Methodist  and  Presbyterian  prayer- 
meeting  congregations,  at  the  Methodist  Church  in 
Jackson. 

Early  on  Thursday  morning,  we  left  Jackson  on  two 
horses  and  a  mule,  and  a  wagon  with  a  big  tent  and  our 
little  baggage.  I  took  the  mule,  as  the  city  gentlemen 
were  not  accustomed  to  his  gaits. 

It  rained  on  us  all  morning,  but  shined  on  us  the  bal- 
ance of  the  long  way  up  the  Quicksand.  So,  though 
only  one  had  an  umbrella,  we  were  dry  enough  at  the 
end  of  our  journey.  Willie  rode  the  wagon  with  "Bunk" 
Combs  and  the  baggage.     The  road  up  the  main  Quick- 


78  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

sand  being  impassable  for  a  wagon,  we  took  the  South 
Fork,  which  was  not  quite  so  bad. 

We  passed  the  place  where  "bad  Tom"  Smith  mur- 
dered Dr.  Rader.  Near  by,  we  met  a  gentleman  who 
told  us  his  father  had  been  trying  to  have  him  killed  for 
some  years.     We  passed  on. 

Not  far  above  the  mouth  of  Dumb  Betty  (a  mountain 
stream)  we  passed  an  original  still-house  under  a  big 
cliflf,  where  the  natives  manufacture  trouble.  We  "passed 
by  on  the  other  side,"  as  the  good  Samaritan  would 
have  done. 

We  left  the  South  Fork  and  went  up  Russell's  Fork, 
and  over  the  mountain  to  Winny  Branch,  and  down  to 
the  main  Quicksand. 

There  had  probably  been  a  road  that  way  once,  but 
there  is  no  evidence  of  it  left.  The  raging  waters  have 
carried  it  all  away.  The  mountain  was  so  steep  one 
could  scarcely  walk  down  it ;  the  wagon,  I  suppose,  just 
slid  down.  None  but  a  mountain  man  would  have 
dared  to  let  her  slide. 

One  o'clock  brought  us  to  Mr.  John  Wesley  Mann's, 
a  whole-souled  mountaineer,  who  has  nothing  too  good 
for  a  way-worn  traveller. 

Here  our  young  missionary,  Addison  Talbott,  has 
been  boarding  this  summer,  and  he  was  delighted  to  see 
some  one  from  the  "settlements."  Two  bright  girls  soon 
had  us  some  dinner,  and  some  fine  apples,  after  which 
we  rode  on  to  our  destination,  at  the  mouth  of  Spring 
Fork,  some  thirty  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  crooked 
Quicksand  River. 

Brother  Partridge  and  1  found  a  home  with  Jack 
Howard,  and  Mr.  Barret  and  Willie  with  Mr.  Evans. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      79 

Their  unfurnished  room  had  neither  door  nor  window, 
but  was  delightfully  cool  these  summer  days.  Their 
simple-hearted  welcome  made  us  feel  at  home,  for  there 
never  were  more  generous  people.  Children,  dogs  and 
all,  treated  us  like  brothers. 

That  evening  we  began  to  fix  the  big  tent.  No  place 
could  be  found  for  it  except  in  a  thick  grove  of  trees  on 
a  bench  of  the  mountain,  where  a  battle  had  been  fought 
in  the  old  war  times.  Here  four  brave  Confederate 
boys  were  sleeping  their  last  sleep,  by  the  gentle  murmur 
of  the  mountain  stream  and  the  warble  of  the  wild  birds. 
Here  we  came  to  preach  the  Gospel  of  peace  and  love 
to  the  children  of  sin  and  sorrow. 

By  Friday  noon,  with  the  cheerful  help  of  Steve  Car- 
penter and  the  other  "boys,"  we  had  the  big  tent  up,  and 
seats  for  three  hundred  people.  They  were  only  six- 
inch  oak  fencing  plank,  within  six  inches  of  the  ground, 
but  the  "Gospel  is  not  bound"  to  circular  pews  and 
cushioned  seats.  "God's  first  temple"  is  greater  and 
grander  than  all  abbeys  and  cathedrals.  It  is  wide  as 
the  earth,  and  its  dome  is  lit  with  the  stars. 

Here  we  preached  ten  days,  and  God  and  his  untutored 
children  of  the  hills  came  to  hear  and  to  help,  to  bless 
and  be  blessed. 

Our  tent  was  pitched  across  the  river  from  the  road, 
but  a  temporary  bridge  and  horses  and  bare  feet  brought 
the  crowds  across.  There  is  no  church  in  this  country 
and  never  has  been  one. 

The  little  church  at  Rousseau,  twelve  miles  down  the 
river,  organized  four  years  ago,  is  the  only  one  on  the 
seventy-five  miles  of  the  Quicksand  River.  Could  you 
believe  it? 


80  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

There  is  no  regular  preaching  in  this  country,  except 
one  "yearly"  meeting,  held  at  old  Mrs.  Davis'.  Our 
hostess  told  us  she  had  heard  only  one  man  preach  in 
two  years,  and  that  at  a  funeral.  Indeed  funeral  ser- 
mons have  the  monopoly  of  all  the  preaching.  They 
are  generally  held  in  the  fall,  and  at  the  graves.  One 
man's  funeral  has  been  preached  annually  for  fourteen 
years. 

On  the  Sabbath  when  there  were  some  three  hundred 
people  present,  I  asked  how  many  were  members  of  any 
church,  and  found  only  thirteen.  Think  of  it!  Thir- 
teen out  of  three  hundred,  men  and  women:  Anglo- 
Saxons,  Kentuckians !  and  several  of  these  came  up  from 
the  church  at  Rousseau,  twelve  miles  below. 

Day  after  day,  they  came  in  crowds,  through  heat 
and  dust,  walking  and  riding;  some  bare-footed  and 
some  bare-headed,  with  babies  and  dogs  (until  we  drew 
the  line  on  dogs),  and  sat  patiently  from  9  to  ii  A.  M., 
and  from  2  to  4  P.  M.,  on  six-inch  boards,  within  six 
inches  of  the  ground.  If  your  pastor  can't  preach  in 
your  nice  church,  send  him  to  the  Quicksand;  it  is  no 
trouble  there.  It  just  preaches  itself.  If  men  were 
dumb,  the  "stones  would  cry  out."  God  gave  us  good 
weather  after  a  big  rain  Sunday  afternoon. 

The  young  men  who  have  been  teaching  Sabbath 
schools  along  this  river  this  summer  did  noble  work  in 
visiting  and  singing.  Mr.  Barrett  did  invaluable  ser- 
vice with  his  cornet,  which  made  up  for  our  lack  of 
singers,  and  echoed  along  the  mountain  coves,  in  leading 
God's  praises. 

There  being  no  doctor  in  some  twenty-five  miles,  I 
visited  some  of  the  sick.     One  evening  I  went  with  Mr. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      81 

Talbott  to  see  old  lady  Davis,  who  has  "spells,"  and  Mr. 
Ritchie,  who  lost  an  eye  last  week  with  acute  inflam- 
mation, and  Mr.  Russell,  who  had  a  turtle  bone  lodged 
in  his  throat,  and  the  little  Trusty  girl,  who  had  fever, 
but  no  doctor  or  medicine.  Pity  the  poor ;  but  none  so 
poor  as  those  without  a  Savior. 

During  the  week  I  took  occasion  to  explain  the  Mor- 
mon abomination,  as  some  of  their  agents,  in  sheep's 
clothing,  had  gone  through  this  country.  I  don't  think 
they  will  return. 

To  ascertain  if  the  people  took  religious  papers,  I 
asked  for  all  who  were  subscribers,  and  there  was  not 
one.  Old  Mr,  Sheppard  said  he  was  sixty-seven  years 
old,  and  had  never  seen  a  religious  paper.  A  number 
subscribed  for  the  "Soul  Winner,"  which  is  published 
for  the  poor,  at  twenty-five  cents  a  year,  and  some  could 
not  even  pay  that. 

Through  the  second  week,  Brother  Partridge  preached 
with  great  tenderness  and  earnestness,  twice  a  day, 
morning  and  evening,  and  I  followed  him,  making  four 
sermons  every  day,  not  counting  earnest  exhortations 
by  Daniel  Mcintosh,  our  mountain  elder  from  Rous- 
seau, and  our  Sunday  school  missionaries,  Allen,  Crock- 
ett and  Talbott. 

For  four  to  five  solid  hours,  the  patient  people  listened, 
and  learned  a  Gospel  they  said  they  never  heard  before. 
On  the  last  Saturday,  I  preached  on  Baptism,  by  request, 
explaining  it,  but  giving  every  person  a  choice  of  mode, 
as  they  were  raised  in  the  immersionist  belief. 

The  last  two  days,  Saturday  and  Sunday,  were  the 
great  days  of  the  feast.  The  big  tent  was  crowded. 
There  was  never  better  behavior  nor  better  attention 


82  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

from  9  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  5  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, with  a  recess  for  lunch.  Seventy-seven  persons, 
nearly  all  grown  people,  and  many  aged,  confessed 
Christ,  and  over  seventy  received  baptism. 

It  was  Pentecost  on  Quicksand.  The  shouting 
drowned  the  weeping,  and  rolled  across  the  river,  and 
up  the  mountains,  to  heaven. 

Brother  Partridge,  twice  a  presiding  elder,  said  he 
never  saw  the  like  before,  and  shouted  as  if  it  were  a 
Methodist  camp-meeting.  He  could  not  help  it;  I  felt 
like  it  myself.  I  shall  never  forget  the  scene.  Some 
of  the  faces  of  those  poor  women  were  transformed  into 
beauty  by  a  touch  of  Divinity.  They  talked  with  God, 
and  their  faces  shone  like  Moses'.  I  have  often  wit- 
nessed great  demonstrations  of  God's  power,  but  this 
experience  stands  conspicuous  above  them  all,  like, 
Pentecost  of  old.     I  thank  God  I  was  there. 

At  5  o'clock,  then  the  tenth  day,  we  sent  the  reluctant 
people  home,  but  not  until  after  they  had  determined  to 
build  themselves  a  church,  and  selected  three  leading 
men,  John  Brown,  John  Wesley  Mann,  and  Buchanan 
Bradley,  with  Stephen  Carpenter  and  Jack  Howard,  as  a 
building  committee.  Mr.  Howard  generously  gave  them 
a  site  for  the  church. 

The  next  morning  found  us  all  going  down  the  river 
to  the  church  at  Rousseau,  on  our  way  home.  The 
Caney  Mountain  took  up  much  of  the  twelve  miles,  and 
was  as  bad  as  the  ascent  of  Pike's  Peak.  Much  of  it 
we  had  to  walk.  Mr.  Barrett  once  lost  his  balance  and 
fell  to  the  ground,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  boys 
on  the  mules. 

At  2  P.  M,  Brother  Partridge  and  I  preached  to  a 


< 
< 


o 


o 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      83 

fine  congregation  in  the  pretty  church  at  Rousseau,  the 
only  one  on  the  long  Quicksand.  It  was  a  remarkable 
congregation  for  2  o'clock  on  Monday,  The  house  was 
about  full,  and  three  persons  united  with  the  church, 
two  of  whom  I  baptized.  This  church  is  only  four 
years  old,  in  a  country  where  we  had  not  a  single  mem- 
ber, and  is  worth  every  dollar  expended  in  this  great 
work  of  saving  these  perishing  people. 

After  the  preaching,  another  long  ride  over  the  moun- 
tains brought  us  to  Jackson,  in  the  night.  Willie  and 
Stuart  Crockett  had  to  walk  it  (fourteen  miles),  for 
want  of  a  mule. 

Over  one  hundred  families  without  a  Bible  were  sup- 
plied with  one. 

I  could  only  wish  God's  faithful  people  could  see  the 
sorrowful  religious  destitution  of  these  poor,  but  worthy, 
people,  and  then  see  the  inexpressible  joy  of  a  new- 
found hope  of  everlasting  life  through  the  Savior  of  the 
poor.  If  they  could,  we  would  not  have  to  beg  for  help 
to  send  them  the  Gospel. 

On  the  treatment  of  such  depends  the  tremendous  sen- 
tence of  the  Judgment  Day. 

May  God  help  us  to  help  them. 


ELKATAWA. 

Will  you  please  lend  me  your  ears  while  I  tell  you  of 
a  day  at  Elkatawa,  a  sample  of  many  days  and  many 
Elkatawas  in  the  great  Cumberlands? 

I  came  here  on  Friday  evening  to  visit  our  mission- 
aries, Rev.  Dr.  Saunders  and  wife,  and  Mrs.  Emma  Gor- 


84  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

don.  I  found  them  in  a  "shanty"  not  near  so  good  as 
your  stable,  but  serving  as  a  vestibule  to  mansions  in 
heaven. 

We  preached  Saturday  morning  in  the  school-house 
(as  there  is  no  church  here)  to  three  little  children.  At 
3  P.  M.  we  had  seventy-five  people  present. 

Sunday  the  house  and  yard  we'-e  filled  with  four  or 
five  hundred  people,  who  stood  or  sat  on  the  ground, 
or  rough  planks,  for  four  hours,  to  hear  the  Gospel. 
Most  of  these  people  walked  to  church,  and  some  of 
them  for  miles. 

We  took  up  a  collection  to  build  a  church  here,  and 
got  one  dollar  and  sixty-seven  cents.  Maybe  they  had 
no  more,  or  didn't  know  how  to  give  (probably  the 
former).  We  will  try  to  help  them  build  a  church  this 
summer. 

Fifty  children  joined  the  Sabbath  school,  and  fifty 
more  are  to  come — many  grown-up  children. 

Their  zeal  reminded  us  of  the  people  of  Gennesaret, 
who  were  waiting  for  Jesus,  and  ran  to  meet  him.  Of 
course  He  healed  them  all.  He  always  does.  I  believe 
He  healed  many  souls  here  yesterday. 

Their  eagerness  to  hear  was  refreshing.  They  left 
no  room  for  the  preacher ;  and  bright  little  girls  crowded 
the  corner  where  Mrs.  Gordon  played  the  little  organ, 
to  help  her  sing.  They  all  said  they  could  sing,  and 
tried  to  prove  their  faith  by  their  works.  The  Gospel 
songs  have  been  a  powerful  evangel  in  the  humble  homes 
of  the  mountaineers.  Most  of  the  children  know  a  few 
songs,  taught  by  the  missionaries. 

It  is  a  delight  to  feed  those  who  are  hungry,  but  piti- 
ful to  see  so  many  without  "the  Bread  of  Life." 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      85 

There  is  no  preaching  to  this  great  crowd  of  people, 
except  an  occasional  sermon  by  a  Mormon. 

Our  Field  Secretary,  Rev.  Harvey  Murdoch,  has  gone 
on  a  long  tour  to  our  missionaries  on  the  Quicksand. 
We  believe  he  is  a  "man  sent  from  God"  for  this  work. 
Few  realize  how  much  it  is  needed. 

It  is  over  one  hundred  miles  from  here,  by  the  two 
rivers,  to  the  Virginia  border, — mountains  all  the  way, 
full  of  sinners,  and  only  two  preachers  I  know  of,  one  a 
Methodist  and  one  a  Northern  Presbyterian. 

We  have  a  number  of  faithful  missionaries  scattered 
through  this  region,  but  they  are  like  light-houses  on  the 
shores  of  a  continent  of  darkness. 

I  have  just  returned  from  Texas  and  Oklahoma,  with 
their  boundless  contiguity  of  sunshine  and  wealth,  and 
cannot  but  note  the  contrast  to  this  boundless  contiguity 
of  shade  and  poverty,  where  the  shadow  of  death  covers 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  souls.  I  am  sure  God's  wise 
and  liberal  children  will  come  to  their  rescue,  if  they  only 
know  the  facts.  Many  are  already  helping,  but  we  need 
so  many  more  consecrated  workers,  and  so  much  more 
consecrated  money  to  sustain  them.  We  could  use 
thousands  where  we  get  hundreds  of  dollars. 

As  to  its  use,  we  may  quote  that  one  of  God's  wisest 
and  best  servants  (a  distinguished  preacher  known 
throughout  the  whole  country.  North  and  South),  says 
of  this  work:  "The  Soul  Winners'  Society  is  doing  the 
most  and  best  work,  with  the  least  money,  of  any  mis- 
sionary society  on  earth,  so  far  as  I  know." 

We  are  sending  out  every  week  more  faithful  labor- 
ers into  the  great  harvest-field,  relying  on  God  to  sustain 


86  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

them.      May  He  honor  you  with  a  part  in  this  great 
work,  with  your  prayers  and  your  gifts. 

Many  earnest  workers  have  recently  gone  into  the 
Alleghanies  of  Tennessee  and  North  CaroHna,  and  others 
into  the  Kentucky  Cumberlands,  but  the  cry  is  still, 
"Come  over  and  help  us."  Especially  is  this  cry  most 
pleading  and  piteous  from  the  great  Cumberlands.  It 
is  a  pitiful  thing  to  hear  a  child  crying  for  its  dead 
mother;  how  much  more  sorrowful  is  it  to  hear  a  lost 
soul  crying  for  its  unknown  Savior.  It  should  melt  a 
heart  of  adamant. 


FROM  PANTHER  RIDGE. 

Some  months  ago  two  consecrated  young  people  from 
Canada,  who  had  given  their  lives  and  labors  to  their 
Master,  went  as  missionaries  to  the  darkest  corner  of  the 
desolate  mountains. 

They  asked  only  a  scant  living,  which  was  all  the 
Society  of  Soul  Winners  could  promise  them,  under 
whose  auspices  they  went  to  carry  the  "glad  tidings." 

They  were  utter  strangers  to  the  country  and  people, 
but  they  knew  the  Gospel,  and  God's  love  and  power. 
They  went  twenty  miles  beyond  a  town  or  a  doctor  or 
a  church  or  a  preacher.  Their  hired  home  is  a  little 
log-cabin,  of  one  room,  without  a  window  or  a  carpet, 
or  furniture,  or  convenience  of  any  kind,  and  the  door 
and  roof  only  names. 

By  dint  of  hard  work  they  have  patched  it  up  to  keep 
from  freezing  this  winter.  In  an  open  log-house  they 
have  started  a  Sunday  school,  and  have  enrolled  a  hun- 


Sketches  of  the  American'  Highlandees.      87 

dred  mountain  children,  all  of  whom  are  taught  by  the 
faithful  missionary  and  his  wife;  forty  in  one  class  and 
sixty  in  the  other;  no  other  help  in  reach. 

The  poor  people  gave  them  a  cordial  welcome, — all 
they  had  to  give, — and  are  beginning  to  learn  a  better 
"way"'  than  they  have  ever  known  before. 

The  following  letter  from  the  young  wife  gives  some 
idea  of  the  country,  its  sin  and  sorrow,  its  people,  and 
their  destitutions,  and  the  privations  and  hardships  of 
such  a  life.  And  more,  it  gives  an  idea  of  the  power 
of  the  Gospel  to  take  a  lovely,  educated  young  woman 
from  a  happy  home  and  kind  friends  and  bury  her  in  a 
living  tomb  among  wild,  strange  people  in  a  desolate 
land. 

And  even  more  yet,  we  see  her  do  it  cheerfully,  and 
happily,  and  without  a  murmur  or  complaint.  Pandita 
Ramabai,  noble  as  she  is,  made  no  such  sacrifices  for 
her  poor,  perishing  countrymen. 

That  this  devoted  Christian  woman  and  her  husband 
will  succeed,  goes  without  saying.  Heaven  and  earth 
will  pass  away,  but  the  promise  of  their  glorious  reward 
will  never  pass.  Their  crowns  in  heaven  will  outshine 
all  the  tiaras  that  ever  glittered  on  the  brows  of  kings 
and  queens  on  earth. 

Are  you  a  partner  of  their  labors?  Will  you  be  a 
partner  of  their  reward? 

The  letter  following  was  written  to  a  lady  friend,  who 
kindly  permits  us  to  use  it  in  stimulating  others  to  like 
service,  and  sustaining  those  who  have  gone  to  publish 
salvation  to  our  perishing  countrymen : 


88  Galax  Gatherees,  and 

"My  Dear  Sister:  "Panther  Ridge. 

"I  have  been  delayed  in  answering  your  letter,  and  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  me.  You  asked  for  a  description 
of  our  field  here.  I  hardly  know  what  to  write;  you 
have  heard  so  many  things,  and  still  there  is  so  much 
more  that  cannot  be  expressed  by  pen  and  paper;  the 
real  needs  of  the  people;  the  lack  of  knowledge  and 
education,  and,  above  all,  the  lack  of  Christ  in  the  hearts 
and  lives  of  these  people. 

"Sometimes  we  almost  stand  in  awe  as  we  face  this 
great  work,  not  only  in  our  vicinity,  but  in  the  regions 
about  us.  No  Bible  being  taught;  no  Sunday  school 
for  children,  and  nothing  that  would  lift  the  thoughts 
from  daily  toil  and  care  and  sin  and  sorrow,  to  a  brighter 
and  more  hopeful  landscape  even, — that  time  when  God's 
people  will  see  His  face  and  shall  be  with  Him  forever. 
They  have  no  such  hope.  They  do  not  know  how  to 
pray.  I  have  asked  nearly  all  of  my  fifty  children  in  my 
Sunday  school  class  if  they  pray,  and  not  one  of  them 
had  ever  been  taught  to  pray. 

"God's  name  is  used  only  in  blasphemy,  not  as  the 
One  who  is  Love.  But  I  hope  and  trust  that  into  these 
dark  hearts  will  come  the  assurance  of  that  love,  and 
their  hearts  will  be  changed,  and  the  spirit  of  love  will 
permeate  them  till  they,  too,  will  seek  to  tell  the  'old, 
old  story.' 

"The  children  are  learning  very  fast;  they  are  bright 
as  can  be,  and  when  they  are  once  interested,  they  can 
be  relied  upon. 

"I  have  been  taking  up  a  course  of  the  life  of  Christ. 
I  found  it  would  not  do  to  follow  the  International  Les- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      89 

sons  before  they  knew  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  His  life,  death 
and  resurrection. 

"Our  school-house,  which  has  been  in  very  poor  con- 
dition, and  even  yet  is  not  fitted  up  warm  enough  for 
winter,  will,  I  trust,  soon  be  completed.  I  have  had  the 
children  come  here  to  our  house  when  it  was  too  cold 
in  the  school-house. 

"Our  house  is  very  small,  and  the  accommodations 
for  Sunday  school  limited;  but  the  children  are  glad  to 
come,  and  it  makes  my  heart  rejoice  to  see  their  bright 
little  faces,  and  to  hear  them  sing  so  heartily  the  beau- 
tiful hymns. 

"I  think  I'll  describe  our  trip  to  Peasticks  last  Sun- 
day, and  that  will  give  you  a  little  idea  of  the  country, 
and  the  people's  needs. 

"After  our  morning  service  here,  we  got  a  lunch  and 
started  off  horseback.  I  rode  our  horse,  while  Mr, 
Smith  rode  a  borowed  one.  We  could  not  take  the 
direct  road  to  Peasticks,  as  they  had  been  cutting  timber, 
and  the  road  was  blocked. 

"It  was  all  a  new  experience  to  me.  I  had  travelled 
down  and  up  the  creeks,  but  had  never  crossed  a  moun- 
tain. For  awhile  we  took  the  bed  of  the  creek,  some- 
times splashing  through  the  water,  then  over  ledges  of 
rocks,  up  and  down  continually;  then  under  trees  that 
had  fallen  across  the  creek,  and  we  would  be  compelled 
to  bow  low,  and  even  then  we  would  have  our  backs 
rubbed  by  the  trees.  But  at  last  we  came  to  the  foot 
of  the  mountain.  I  said,  'Surely  we  don't  ride  up  here.' 
The  path  looked  straight  up,  up,  up;  but  I  was  told  to 
hang  to  the  horse's  mane,  and  up  we  started.  That  was 
not  the  worst.      It  was  when  wc  got  to  the  other  side 


90  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

that  I  positively  refused  to  ride  any  more,  so  I  got  down 
and  led  my  horse.  I  thought  I  should  slide  over  his 
head,  and  if  the  horse  should  slip,  I  don't  know  where 
we  would  have  been.  At  last,  we  reached  Peasticks, 
after  two  hours  and  a  half  of  hard  riding, — only  seven 
miles. 

"At  the  school-house  we  did  not  find  any  one,  so 
rode  on  to  the  store.  There  we  found  the  devil  had  got 
there  before  us.  A  barrel  of  whiskey  had  been  gotten 
in,  the  night  before,  and  scores  of  men,  women  and 
children  were  there  drinking  and  carousing. 

"I  don't  know  when  my  heart  felt  so  sick  at  the  sight 
of  young  girls,  standing  around  and  talking  with  the 
men.  Many  of  them  had  powdered  their  faces  and  put 
on  their  finery,  to  make  themselves  look  as  attractive  as 
possible.  It  is  awful.  What  are  the  laws  of  the  land? 
Such  lawlessness  and  debauchery  is  a  disgrace  to  a 
country.      May  God  help  these  poor  people. 

"Mr.  Smith  went  among  them  and  invited  them  to 
come  up  to  the  school-house,  and  we  went  back.  We 
had  about  forty-five  to  come  in,  and  the  Word  of  God 
was  preached  from  the  text:  'Come,  for  all  things  are 
now  ready.'  It  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  results  do 
not  rest  with  us.  It  is  our  duty  to  preach  the  Word  and 
to  pray,  but  God  gives  the  increase.  I  pray  that  even 
on  Peasticks  there  will  be  precious  souls  won  for  the 
Master.  They  have  no  regular  work  there,  only  an 
occasional  service.  The  children  have  nothing  done 
for  them. 

"There  are  other  places  where  we  expect  to  go  when- 
ever we  can,  but  the  roads  are  so  bad  we  cannot  get 
about  far  in  these  short  days. 


X 


< 


O 


o 
a 

EH 


C5 
O 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      91 

"It  was  dark  before  we  got  home,  and  the  road  is  dan- 
gerous. The  work  is  needy,  and  I  beHeve  the  harvest  is 
ripe.  I  don't  think  all  will  be  converted,  but  the  Lord 
has  His  own  here  in  the  mountains,  and  it  is  our  busi- 
ness to  preach  'Whosoever  will,'  and  leave  the  rest  with 
God. 

"Since  starting  to  write,  it  has  begun  raining,  and  I 
can  scarcely  find  a  dry  spot  to  sit.  These  mountain 
homes  are  not  very  comfortable ;  even  with  all  the  im- 
provements we  have  made  on  this  old  house,  it  would 
not  be  counted  fit  to  live  in,  if  it  were  in  another  part  of 
the  country.  The  poor  mountain  people  don't  know 
what  comfort  is. 

*'I  hope,  if  it  will  please  the  Lord  for  us  to  remain 
here  many  years,  that  we  may  have  a  little  home  where 
we  can  be  a  little  more  comfortable. 

"The  people  around  us  here  are  anxious  to  learn  to 
read,  and  have  asked  me  to  teach  school  this  winter.  I 
may  do  so  some  days  out  of  the  week,  but  with  house- 
keeping and  visiting,  my  time  is  fully  occupied. 

"I  know  that  you  will  remember  us  in  your  prayers, 
and,  above  all,  pray  that  a  spirit  of  deep  conviction  of 
sin  may  come  upon  these  people,  and  they  will  cry  out, 
'What  must  I  do  to  be  saved'? 

"EosE  S." 


THE  HOUSE  THAT  GOD  BUILT. 

(by  one  who  saw  it.) 

Far  away  in  the  wildest  Cumberland  Mountains  is  a 
little  hamlet  of  Highlanders,  twenty-five  miles  from  a 
railroad,  or  any  other  kind ;  and  some  twenty  miles  from 


92  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

any  town,  far  beyond  all  churches,  schools,  doctors  and 
preachers.  Here  "the  forgotten  people"  had  lived  and 
labored  and  died  for  a  hundred  years.  God  alone  knew 
and  loved  them.  So  He  sent  one  of  His  aged  servants 
and  his  wife  and  youngest  daughter  to  carry  them  "the 
Glad  Tidings  of  Salvation."  Twenty-five  miles  across 
the  rugged  mountains  and  rivers  they  rode  on  horse- 
back, and  pitched  a  tent  in  a  narrow  valley  by  a  beauti- 
ful river.  This  was  the  first  church  in  all  that  country. 
The  aged  doctor  preached,  and  his  loving  daughter 
taught  the  wondering  Highlanders  every  day  the  lessons 
of  heavenly  wisdom.  They  filled  the  tent  with  their 
presence,  and  the  dells  with  their  praises.  So  happy 
and  grateful  were  they  that  they  determined  to  have  a 
better  house.  So,  with  strong  arms  and  loving  hearts, 
they  built  a  beautiful  church  on  Laurel  Point,  a  spur  of 
the  mountain,  and  called  it  "Louise  Chapel,"  in  honor 
of  their  noble  teacher.  Miss  Louise  Saunders. 

Here  her  venerable  father,  Rev.  Dr.  Miles  Saunders 
(for  thirty-seven  years  the  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  at  Springfield,  Kentucky,)  preached  the  gospel 
to  increasing  crowds  of  his  Highland  brethren.  Few 
could  preach  as  well,  and  fewer  preach  it  under  such 
difficulties  and  self-denial.  The  work  grew  beyond  their 
strength,  so  God  sent  a  noble  Gordon  woman  to  help, 
and  then  brought  from  a  New  York  City  church  a  strong 
young  preacher,  a  Mississippian,  and  a  graduate  of 
Princeton,  to  help  carry  the  burden  and  share  the  re- 
ward. 

God  gave  him  the  heart  and  hand  of  this  noble  young 
woman,  and  Miss  Louise  Saunders  became  Mrs.  Harvey 
S.  Murdoch.     Then,  with  united  hearts  and  hands,  they 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      93 

went  to  work  to  build  a  school  for  the  hundreds  of  High- 
land lads  and  lassies  around  them.  They  found  willing 
hands  to  help  them,  and,  though  the  people  were  poor 
in  money,  they  were  rich  in  forests.  So  the  Highlanders 
gave  logs  and  lumber  and  labor,  and  built  the  "Log  Col- 
lege" on  a  mountain  brow,  facing  Louise  Chapel,  with  a 
beautiful  campus  between.  Soon  it  was  full,  and  no 
place  to  take  others  who  wanted  to  come;  so  a  nice 
girls'  dormitory  and  a  dwelling  for  teachers  were  built. 
All  these  were  built  of  logs,  sawed  and  squared  and  set 
with  plummet  and  compass,  the  most  beautiful  houses 
of  their  kind  in  the  State,  and  elegantly  furnished  with 
two  hundred  bright  lads  and  lassies,  many  of  them  pre- 
paring to  teach  and  preach  the  Gospel,  we  hope.  Every- 
thing is  crowded,  college,  dormitories  and  refectory,  and 
many  more  to  follow,  when  there  is  room.  Six  trained 
teachers  are  employed,  and  the  Bible  is  the  foremost 
text-book,  and  God's  glory  the  chief  object. 

When  Dr.  Saunders  and  his  wife  and  daughter  eur 
tered  this  great  mountain  field,  eight  years  ago,  there 
was  not  a  single  church,  or  school,  where  a  mountain 
boy  could  get  an  education.  Now  there  are  six  nice 
churches  and  three  homes  for  the  missionaries,  with 
three  educated  teachers  and  preachers ;  the  Log  College, 
with  three  other  schools,  taught  by  competent  teachers, 
and  over  five  hundred  professors  of  faith  in  Christ.  "Be- 
hold what  God  hath  wrought."  And  for  all  this  work 
not  a  single  collection  has  been  taken  in  any  church. 
God  built  these  houses  by  the  hands  of  His  wise  and 
consecrated  children  all  over  the  land. 

This  is  a  part  of  the  work  of  the  Society  of  Soul  Win- 
ners.    Its  missions  embrace  the  mountains  of  Kentucky, 


94  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

Tennessee,  North  Carolina  and  Virginia.  It  simply  pays 
the  board  of  its  faithful  teachers  and  preachers.  God 
will  provide  their  reward  when  He  divides  the  "King- 
doms and  Crowns"  in  "that  Day."  And  not  for  these 
only,  but  for  all  those  whose  prayers  and  alms  have 
helped  in  His  work  among  our  poor  Highland  neigh- 
bors.    Have  you  a  part  in  this  glorious  work  ? 


THE  CHURCH  ON  THE  GRAPE  VINE. 

Far  up  in  the  Kentucky  Mountains,  thirty  miles  by 
the  river  from  Jackson,  and  the  railroad,  is  a  glassy 
stream  known  as  the  Grape  Vine.  It  is  out  of  the  way 
to  any  other  place,  and  the  road  to  it  is  a  bridle-path 
over  the  mountains. 

For  fifty  miles  along  this  branch  of  the  Kentucky 
River  there  was  no  church.  Some  five  summers  ago  I 
visited  this  destitute  region,  and  preached  in  a  little 
school-house  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  amid  the  soli- 
tude of  a  primeval  forest.  The  untutored  children  of 
the  hills  filled  the  little  house,  and  God  came  down  and 
saved  some  scores  of  precious  souls. 

Since  then,  devoted  men  have  gone  to  them  with  the 
glad  tidings  of  salvation.  Mr.  Wallin,  Mr.  Farnsworth, 
Dr.  Witherspoon,  Dr.  Saunders,  Mr.  Fincher,  and  others, 
have  labored  faithfully  at  different  times  among  them. 
Members  were  added,  a  church  organized,  and  a  house 
of  worship  built  and  made  ready  for  dedication. 

On  Thursday,  July  6th,  with  Rev.  James  A.  Bryan,  of 
Birmingham,  Alabama,  and  Samuel  M.  Johnson,  Jr.,  of 
New  York,  I  started  to  the  Grape  Vine.    These  brethren 


Sketches  of  the  American"  Highlanders.      95 

had  kindly  consented  to  help  in  our  evangelistic  work. 
It  was  their  first  adventure  in  the  mountains.  A  ride 
of  one  hundred  miles  brought  us  to  Jackson,  the  ter- 
minus of  the  mountain  railroad.  The  scenery  up  the 
Red  River  canon  and  the  Kentucky  River  surpassed  any 
they  had  ever  seen.  On  our  way  we  passed  William 
Steinert,  one  of  our  missionaries  at  Oak  Dale,  and  found 
two  more  faithful  men  at  Jackson.  Rev.  Charles  A. 
I.ogan  had  just  been  installed  pastor  of  our  church  here. 
A  most  happy  selection.  His  church  had  been  burned 
on  Wednesday  night,  but  some  insurance  will  help  them 
build  a  better  house,  we  hope. 

Early  Friday  morning  we  three  started  for  the  Grape 
Vine,  twenty-three  miles  over  the  mountains.  Two  little 
mules  (of  Dr.  Saunders')  furnished  us  transportation  for 
ourselves  and  baggage,  with  one  horse  part  of  the  way 
(when  we  did  not  walk).  The  city  gentlemen  showed 
their  zeal  by  "patient  endurance"  of  many  hardships,  and 
"rejoiced  in  tribulations,"  even  beyond  our  hopes.  They 
learned  many  things  not  taught  in  Birmingham  or  New 
York  City,  some  valuable  lessons  in  life's  journey :  how 
big  the  world  is ;  how  other  people  live ;  how  poor  some 
are,  and  how  destitute  of  the  Gospel. 

In  the  long  stretch  of  twenty-three  mountain  miles, 
we  saw  no  church,  and  only  one  man  trying  to  show 
them  the  better  way,  "Uncle  Ben"  Bigstafif,  the  faithful 
evangelist,  at  the  mouth  of  Lost  Creek,  on  the  Trouble- 
some. Here  is  a  stream  seventy-five  miles  long,  and 
only  one  church  on  it.     No  comment  necessary. 

From  there  to  the  Grape  Vine  we  had  a  rough  ride 
(and  walk),  of  thirteen  miles  across  two  mountains.  On 
top  of  Leatherwood  Mountain,  the  brethren  sang,  "Let 


96  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

the  blessed  sunshine  in,"  where  the  dark  valleys  only 
symbolized  the  deep  spiritual  darkness  of  the  inhabi- 
tants. Brother  Bryan  remarked  that  he  learned  more 
of  God  and  men  in  two  days  here  than  in  two  weeks  at 
the  Northfield  School. 

On  the  way  we  met  an  old  man,  walking.  When  he 
recognized  me,  he  gave  me  his  right  hand  (had  before 
given  his  left),  and  said :  "I  have  thanked  God  a  thou- 
sand times  for  the  Testament  you  gave  me  years  ago  on 
the  Troublesome.  I  read  it  all  the  time."  We  thanked 
God  for  old  Henry  Mcintosh  and  his  Testament. 

Night  and  the  rain  caught  us  before  we  reached  the 
Grape  Vine,  and  we  found  a  resting  place  in  three  strange 
homes.  Brother  Johnson  got  lost  before  he  found  his 
place. 

On  Saturday  morning  we  went  around  and  brought  a 
little  congregation  of  fifteen  to  church,  because  there  was 
no  appointment  for  that  day.  Thanks  to  the  labors  of 
Mr.  Fincher,  Mr.  Deggendorf,  Edward  and  Tom.  Mose- 
ley  and  Dwight  Witherspoon,  Jr.,  and  native  helpers, 
we  found  a  pretty  little  white  church  on  a  high,  grassy 
hill,  surrounded  by  beautiful  forest-clad  mountains,  over- 
looking the  river  and  Grape  Vine  stream.  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  saw  a  finer  location  for  a  church.  It  is 
certainly  "beautiful  for  situation,"  the  joy  of  the  whole 
valley.  On  Sunday  it  was  crowded  to  overflowing.  The 
patient  people  came  early,  and  Brother  Bryan  began  to 
preach  at  9  A.  M.  We  all  preached  by  turns,  and  the 
services  continued  until  5  P.  M.,  with  a  recess  for  din- 
ner. This  is  their  custom  up  here.  At  11  A.  M.  we 
dedicated  the  church  to  the  service  of  God.    Four  grown 


Sketches  op  the  American  Highlanders.      97 

persons  united  with  the  church,  three  of  them  received 
baptism, — one  a  leading  citizen,  and  three  young  ladies. 
Dr.  Miles  Saunders,  of  Crockettsville,  was  too  unwell 
to  be  present,  nmch  to  our  regret.  Brother  Barkley, 
our  synodical  colporteur,  and  Jake  Field,  elder  at  Big 
Creek,  came  sixteen  miles  to  the  services.  God  gave  us 
fine  weather  during  this  week,  and  we  all  preached  every 
day,  morning  and  afternoon,  beginning  at  9  A.  M.  and 
closing  about  5  P.  M,  During  the  week,  forty-four  per- 
sons confessed  Christ,  forty-two  of  them  adults, — one 
old  man  seventy-three  years  old.  Forty-three  united 
with  the  church  on  profession,  and  one  by  letter,  and 
there  was  great  rejoicing  (and  some  shouting)  on  Grape 
Vine.  Most  of  the  people  walked  to  church,  and  a  good 
many  carried  their  little  children.  One  mother  brought 
a  little  fellow,  only  sixteen  days  old,  every  day. 

Brother  Mitchell,  pastor  at  Hazard,  came  down  on 
Monday  and  was  with  us  at  the  burial  of  Mrs.  Major 
John  Eversole,  one  of  the  oldest  inhabitants.  The  burial 
(as  usual)  was  on  the  summit  of  a  mountain  peak,  with 
a  grand  view  of  the  river  and  country  for  miles.  Her 
granddaughter,  a  fine  girl,  has  been  conducting  the  Sab- 
bath school  and  is  not  afraid  to  walk  three  mountain 
miles  to  do  it. 

Thursday  night  I  went  three  miles  down  the  river  to 
Mrs.  Dr.  Wilson's,  over  a  way  where  one  needed  wings. 
The  river  had  washed  the  road  away  and  hardly  left  a 
dangerous  bridle  path.  Yet  these  earnest  people  travel 
such  a  way  to  hear  the  Gospel. 

I  found  Mrs.  Wilson  living  at  the  home  of  James  Moore 
(a  Methodist  preacher),  who  had  killed  his  brother  there, 
and  in  sight  of  the  place  where  Jacob  Neece  had  killed 


98  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

the  United  States  marshal,  William  Byrd.  Two  widowed 
women,  alone,  live  on  this  side  of  the  river,  with  only- 
mountains  in  sight,  and  away  from  the  road  and  world. 
I  have  never  seen  a  more  isolated  or  lonely  place.  But 
God  was  there  to  protect  and  comfort  his  secluded 
children. 

On  Friday  afternoon  Brother  Bryan  and  I  started  for 
Crockettsville,  in  Breathitt  County,  thirteen  miles  away, 
to  meet  an  appointment  with  Dr.  Saunders.  Brother 
Johnson  remained  to  preach  on  the  Sabbath,  when  eight 
more  confessed  Christ,  making  fifty-two  received  this 
week. 

We  found  the  way  to  Crockettsville  about  as  good  (or 
bad)  as  all  the  roads.  They  all  run  up  or  down  streams, 
along  narrow  valleys,  over  rough  mountains  and  across 
rivers. 

We  crossed  the  middle  fork  of  the  Kentucky  River  at 
Gross'  Store,  came  near  getting  lost  on  Squabble  Creek, 
and  reached  Callahan's  about  dark.  (This  reminds  me 
in  time  to  give  you  a  rest  and  take  one  myself.)  At 
some  other  time  I  may  tell  you  about  the  work  at  Crock- 
ettsville, where  one  year  ago  there  was  not  a  single 
church  or  Presbyterian,  and  now  a  beautiful  new  church, 
built  by  the  mountain  people,  and  one  hundred  and  forty 
members. 


PREACHING  THE  GOSPEL  TO  THE  POOR. 

When  Brother  Bryan  and  I  came  in  sight  of  our  last 
summer's  camp,  we  found  a  pretty  white  church  stand- 
ing near  the  spot  where  the  big  tent  stood  last  July.   We 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.      99 

could  hardly  believe  it,  but  it  was  there,  with  the  Sun, 
Moon  and  Stars  painted  over  the  door;  a  large,  nice 
frame  church  building,  the  first  in  this  country,  and  the 
only  one  built  entirely  by  the  inhabitants. 

We  hoped  to  rest  on  Saturday,  but  Dr.  Saunders 
worked  us  from  9  A.  M.  to  4  P.  M.,  except  when  he 
was  working  his  troops  in  battalion  drill.  Acting  on 
the  suggestion  to  be  "all  things  to  all  men,"  and  know- 
ing the  martial  spirit  of  his  people,  he  had  organized  a 
company  of  fifty  boys  and  girls,  uniformed  them  in  red 
caps,  etc.,  and  trained  them  in  the  manual  of  arms  (and 
legs)  and  the  Creed  and  Catechism. 

I  need  not  say  it  was  well  done.  They  marched  and 
counter-marched  up  and  down  the  creek,  and  into  the 
church  (his  objective  point),  and  sang  "When  the  Roll 
is  Called  Up  Yonder,"  so  as  to  stir  the  spirit  of  an  old 
soldier, 

I  was  glad  he  did  not  ask  me  to  show  them  how  to 
repeat  the  Creed  and  Catechism.  They  knew  it  per- 
fectly, without  any  assistance.  It  was  a  most  interesting 
and  instructive  exercise.  It  captures  the  wild  boys  and 
timid  girls,  and  puts  them  in  the  Sabbath  school,  and 
puts  God's  truth  in  their  hearts. 

The  girls  are  taught  to  cut  and  make  garments,  to 
sing  and  read ;  and  the  best  singing  done  in  our  meeting 
was  done  by  this  class.  All  honor  to  Mrs.  Saunders  and 
Mrs.  Gordon,  the  faithful  teachers. 

Sunday  was  the  "great  day  of  the  feast."  People 
came  on  foot  and  horse  and  mule-back,  and  in  wagons, 
for  miles  (some  twenty  miles),  and  filled  the  church  and 
porch  and  outdoors. 

Services  began  at  9  A.  M.;  at   11  we  dedicated  the 


100  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

new  and  beautiful  church  and  furnishings  to  the  wor- 
ship of  God,  who  built  the  miountains  and  loves  their 
simple-hearted  children.  The  church  is  handsomely 
papered  and  painted,  with  nice  pews,  carpet  and  organ, 
good  enough  for  anybody. 

The  handsome  pulpit  Bible  was  the  gift  of  Mrs.  Mc- 
Campbell,  of  Versailles,  and  the  elegant  silver  Com- 
munion service  the  gift  of  Mrs.  Dr.  J.  N.  Saunders, 
whose  beloved  husband  was  so  long  an  honor  to  his 
church  and  State. 

Twelve  persons  united  with  the  church  on  profession 
to-day,  amid  great  rejoicing.  At  5  P.  M.  we  sent  the 
reluctant  people  home. 

This  evening  Brother  Bryan  received  a  telegram  from 
Birmingham,  Alabama,  summoning  him  home  to  his  sick 
wife,  and  he  started  at  once  to  Jackson,  twenty-one  miles 
on  horseback,  through  a  big  rain.  We  were  greatly 
grieved  to  see  him  go,  but  could  not  object.  His  daily 
"walk  and  conversation"  is  a  better  sermon  than  we  can 
preach,  and  his  public  ministry  in  the  pulpit  won  all 
hearts.  God  will  reward  him  for  his  faithful,  self-deny- 
ing service.  He  came  all  the  way  from  his  home  in  Bir- 
mingham to  help  us  in  this  great  work.  It  was  not  new 
to  him,  for  he  was  a  Soul  Winner  by  nature  and  grace, 
both. 

Brother  Johnson  came  over  from  Grape  Vine  Monday 
(with  Jack  Gambill,  and  one  mule),  and  rendered  in- 
valuable service  during  the  week. 

In  spite  of  the  busy  season,  and  an  epidemic  of  deadly 
dysentery  among  the  people,  the  congregations  increased 
daily,  until  Thursday,  when  we  were  crowded  out  again. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    101 

I  suppose  there  were  four  or  five  hundred  present,  the 
whole  day. 

During  the  week  Dr.  Saunders  conducted  five  fune- 
rals, at  the  church,  of  death  from  bloody  flux.  Not  the 
least  of  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel  to  these  poor  people 
is  the  church  for  their  dead,  and  a  true  preacher  to  point 
them  from  suffering  and  death  to  life  and  joy  in  heaven. 

The  Doctor's  little  wagon  brought  their  dead  to  the 
church,  and  bore  them  away  to  humble  graves  am'ong 
their  solemn  mountains. 

At  every  service  there  were  confessions  of  Christ,  and 
on  Thursday  morning,  Dr.  Saunders  baptized  thirty- 
four  persons,  and  others  in  the  afternoon.  Altogether, 
there  were  forty-five  additions  to  the  church  this  week, 
giving  this  church  175  members.  It  was  organized  on 
July  30,  1898,  with  only  one  person  who  had  been  a 
Presbyterian. 

Truly  God  hath  done  great  things  for  them  and  us, 
whereof  we  are  glad  and  grateful.  Let  those  whose 
generous  help  has  made  possible  these  blessed  results 
thank  God  and  rejoice  in  the  glorious  privilege.  May 
God  multiply  their  numbers  and  their  rewards. 

As  is  his  custom,  "the  Old  Serpent"  came  up  "with 
the  sons  of  God,"  the  last  day,  in  the  shape  of  a  big 
rattlesnake,  and  threatened  to  draw  some  away,  but  a 
well-directed  blow  by  the  seed  of  a  woman  bruised  his 
head  beyond  recognition  or  recovery. 

Want  of  time  and  strength  compelled  me  to  close  my 
service  on  Thursday  evening. 

Two  Sabbaths  from  my  own  church  admonished  me 
of  my  duty  to  those  generous  people,  so  at  5  A.  M., 
Friday  morning,  T  started  to  the  railroad  at  Elkatawa, 


102  GIalax  Gatherers,  and 

eighteen  miles  away.  I  found  the  road  down  the  river 
and  over  the  mountain  somewhat  better  than  last  sum- 
mer, and  my  little  riding  mule  walked  and  trotted  it, 
with  a  little  persuasion,  by  lo  A.  M. 


COMING  TO  CHRIST  BAREFOOTED. 

How  true  that  "one-half  of  the  world  does  not  know 
how  the  other  half  lives,"  even  though  that  other  half 
be  their  neighbors. 

The  accompanying  picture  will  serve  to  illustrate  this 
fact.  This  is  a  family  of  Americans, — pure,  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  blood,  unmixed  for  hundreds  of  years, — true,  hon- 
est, industrious,  brave  people. 

That  they  are  poor  is  the  fault  of  their  environments ; 
they  are  the  inhabitants  of  the  rugged  Cumberland 
Mountains,  where  the  land  is  scarce  and  unproductive, 
and  money  scarcer. 

On  a  preaching  tour  through  that  country,  I  pitched 
my  tent  on  a  bench  of  a  mountain,  for  want  of  a  church 
or  a  better  place.  There  was  no  church  in  miles,  and 
never  had  been  one. 

The  people  came  for  miles,  walking,  and  riding  on 
horses  and  mules,  over  mountains  and  along  rivers. 
They  came  early,  as  soon  as  they  got  their  breakfast, 
and  stayed  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  They  sat  upon 
rough  boards,  rocks  and  rails,  and  listened  to  the  Gospel, 
which  was  a  new  story  to  them.  Most  of  them  went 
without  dinner.  For  days  together  they  listened  eagerly 
to  the  Gospel  for  four  or  five  hours  a  day. 

On  going  to  the  big  tent,  one  day,  a  man  came  to  me, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    103 

and,  taking  me  to  one  side,  told  me  he  had  no  shoes, 
and  asked  me  if  he  could  join  the  church  bare-footed.  I 
assured  him  he  could  do  so,  gladly.  God  cared  nothing  for 
shoes.  He  could  go  to  heaven  barefooted,  though  he 
might  not  go  to  Congress.  He  was  delighted.  His 
want  oi  shoes  was  not  due  to  laziness.  He  was  the 
father  of  a  large  family  in  a  poor  country,  and  it  was 
all  he  could  do  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  by  hard 
work.  He  wanted  to  be  a  Christian,  and  if  he  waited 
until  he  was  able  to  buy  shoes,  the  opportunity  to  join 
the  church  would  be  gone;  so  he  came  to  request  this 
privilege,  as  he  was  barefooted.  After  the  sermon  that 
day,  I  gave  an  opportunity  to  any  who  were  ready  to 
accept  Christ  as  their  Savior,  to  make  a  public  confes- 
sion of  their  faith,  and  he  was  the  first  one  to  come. 

There  was  a  large  congregation  of  his  neighbors  pres- 
ent, many  of  them  as  poor  as  he  was.  They  esteemed 
him  as  an  honest,  true  man,  and  were  glad  he  had  the 
courage  and  grace  to  come,  and  many  came  with  him. 
His  own  wife  came,  with  a  babe  in  her  arms,  to  accept 
the  same  Savior,  with  her  husband. 

There  was  rejoicing  that  day,  not  only  under  the 
shadow  of  the  tall  Cumberlands,  but  in  the  sunlight  of 
heaven,  on  the  mount  of  God.  Seventy-seven  persons, 
almost  all  grown,  publicly  confessed  their  Savior,  and 
seventy  of  them  received  baptism. 

There  is  not  a  church  in  that  country  yet.  Few  of 
the  people  ever  saw  one;  but  your  faithful  missionaries 
are  now  teaching  these  long-neglected  people  how  to  be 
saved  and  live  for  the  glory  of  God. 

These,  and  fifty  other  missionaries,  are  supported  by 
the  America  Inland  Mission,  organized  to  send  the  Gos- 


104  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

pel  to  the  three  millions  of  destitute  people  of  our  own 
country,  who  live  in  the  great  ranges  of  the  Cumber- 
land and  Allegheny  Mountains. 

God  has  greatly  blessed  this  work,  which  is  supported 
by  the  voluntary  gifts  of  his  generous  children  of  every 
branch  of  the  church,  all  over  the  world. 

We  ask  your  prayers  and  help. 


A  VISIT  TO  CATALOOCHEE. 

IN    THE    GREAT    SMOKY    MOUNTAINS. 

If  you  are  not  a  mountain-climber  you  had  better  not 
undertake  this  trip.  I  am  not  sure  I  would  have  done 
it  if  I  had  known  what  I  know  now.  God  wisely  con- 
ceals the  future  from  us. 

Our  faithful  missionaries,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrows  and 
Mr.  Burton,  had  lived  and  worked  there  a  long  time, 
alone,  and  I  thought  it  was  little  as  I  could  do  to  go  to 
see  them.  So,  past  the  Cumberlands  and  Knoxville, 
Morristown  and  the  French  Broad,  we  went  to  Newport, 
on  the  beautiful  Pigeon  River,  flowing  out  of  the  North 
Carolina  Alleghanies.  There  we  walked  a  mile  to  board 
a  little  car  half  full  of  flour,  etc.,  on  the  new  railroad 
up  the  river,  for  Cataloochee,  in  the  Great  Smoky  Moun- 
tains. At  Hartford,  a  little  station,  we  met  Mr.  Bar- 
rows and  Mr.  Burton,  who  came  to  escort  us  to  their 
little  eyrie  in  the  mountains.  It  was  well  they  did,  for 
though  I  have  been  climbing  the  Cumberlands  since  a 
boy,  and  the  Alleghanies  and  Rockies,  I  do  not  think  I 
could  ever  have  found  that  home  in  the  Great  Smokies. 


Sketches  of  the  Americaist  Highlanders.    105 

We  left  the  cars  where  there  was  no  road,  and  walked 
half  a  mile  to  the  iron  railroad  bridge  over  the  rapid 
river,  which  was  too  dangerous  to  cross  in  a  boat.  Mr. 
Barrows  showed  me  where  he  and  his  family  came  near 
being  drowned  in  attempting  to  cross.  Over  rocks  and 
stumps  and  trees,  where  there  was  not  even  a  path,  we 
made  our  way  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  gorge  in  the 
mountain.  Here  we  met  little  Milburn  Brown,  with 
one  of  the  only  three  horses  in  the  neighborhood,  for 
me  to  ride. 

The  way  we  went  was  up  a  rushing,  roaring  stream, 
which  came  down  five  hundred  feet  in  a  half  mile,  like 
a  dozen  cataracts  of  Lodore.  It  was  magnificent,  but  it 
was  not  a  road;  but  it  was  worth  a  trip  to  one  who 
never  saw  nature  in  her  wildest  mood,  and  most  magni- 
ficent dress.  In  that  deep  mountain  gorge  I  found  the 
most  magnificent  hemlocks  I  had  ever  seen — big  and  tall 
as  the  cedars  of  Lebanon ;  giants  of  the  primeval  forest. 
Among  these  I  found  a  rare  tree  of  most  beautiful  white 
and  pink  bell-shaped  flowers,  and  called  by  the  natives 
the  Tizwood.  I  had  never  seen  it  before.  It  blooms 
alongside  the  dogwood,  but  had  a  more  beautiful  flower. 

A  mile  up  this  cataract  brought  us  to  the  little  mission- 
house  of  Mr,  Barrows.  It  was  perched  in  a  cleft  of  the 
mountain,  under  the  shadow  of  Old  Smoky,  which  reared 
its  white  head  four  thousand  feet  above,  and  marked  the 
boundary  between  Tennessee  and  North  Carolina.  Mrs. 
Barrows  and  three  little  children  (Lavanche  and  her 
little  brother,  and  a  borrowed  one)  gave  me  a  hearty 
welcome  to  the  humble  home — where  contented  poverty 
lived  happily  with  Jesus.  It  was  a  lovely  Christian 
home  and  well  served  as  a  vestibule  to  the  golden  pal- 


106  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

aces  beyond  the  tall  summit  of  Old  Smoky.  Mr.  Bar- 
rows (for  want  of  any  place  to  live)  had  built  his  own 
little  house,  and  propped  it  up  with  long  poles  to  keep 
the  big  storms  from  moving  it  down  on  the  river  below. 
It  was  not  pretty  or  warm,  but  better  than  the  Master 
had.  (It  will  be  warmer  next  winter.)  One  little  stove 
did  the  cooking  and  washing  and  ironing,  and  warming 
the  house,  when  it  could.  And  in  this  humble  home,  in 
the  roughest,  poorest  country  I  ever  saw,  I  found  an 
educated,  cultivated,  gentle  Christian  woman,  as  happy 
as  she  could  be,  in  her  labors  of  love  among  these  poor, 
but  grateful,  children  of  the  great  mountains.  It  was 
a  privilege  to  be  there.  It  was  in  the  suburbs  of  heaven, 
more  than  two  thousand  feet  above  the  troubles  of  the 
world  below. 

That  Monday  night  we  all  walked  half  a  mile  to  a  little 
school-house,  where  I  preached  to  a  house  nearly  full  of 
people,  all  of  whom  had  walked,  for  want  of  a  better 
way.  I  couldn't  see  where  they  came  from,  but  the 
mountains  seemed  to  open,  and  they  came  out  of  vales, 
and  dells,  and  nooks,  all  around.  How  they  lived  I  do 
not  know,  but  God,  who  feeds  the  birds,  will  not  let  His 
children  starve,  though  I  know  some  of  them  get  hungry. 

It  rained  that  night,  or,  rather,  poured  down,  and  all 
the  next  day,  but  we  were  five  hundred  feet  above  the 
roaring  river,  and  felt  safe,  and  sorry  it  rained.  But  the 
good  people  waded  through  mud  and  water  to  the  little 
school-house  at  9  o'clock  A.  M.  (meeting  takes  up  here 
at  9  o'clock),  and  it  was  about  full  of  poor,  wet  men, 
women  and  children,  without  a  single  umbrella  or  over- 
shoe. I  did  my  best,  but  couldn't  preach  well  enough 
for  such  people.    Jesus  only  could  do  that. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    107 

But  I  must  get  along  to  Cataloochee,  Brother  Bur- 
ton's mission-field  in  North  Carolina.  He  was  just  re- 
covering from  a  spell  of  sickness  and  was  not  able  to  go 
with  us,  so  Brother  Barrows,  on  a  little  piece  of  a  mule, 
and  I  on  the  only  horse  I  saw,  waded  through  the  rain 
and  mud  over  the  mountains  and  down  the  valleys  to 
Cataloochee,  on  Big  Creek,  in  North  Carolina.  Here  we 
found  some  three  hundred  people,  in  a  large  commissary 
store,  where  I  preached,  from  a  chair,  while  they  all 
stood  up.  The  men  were  off  work  on  account  of  the 
rain. 

Mr.  Burton  is  doing  a  good  work  here,  under  many 
disadvantages,  but  the  management  promises  to  build  a 
school-house  soon,  which  will  serve  for  a  church  also. 
The  Cherokee  Indians,  who  live  just  up  the  river  have 
a  good  school  and  church,  provided  by  the  government, 
so  that  the  red  children  are  better  educated  than  their 
poor  white  neighbors.  On  our  way  back,  I  saw  the  only 
church  in  the  country — a  log  house,  but  the  roof  was 
off,  the  floor  gone,  and  the  benches  piled  up  in  the  cor- 
ner, all  for  want  of  religion.  It  does  not  always  operate 
that  way.     It  did  here,  and  in  Jeremjah's  time. 

Night  found  us  all  back  in  the  school-house,  which 
was  again  full  of  wet  people  who  walked  through  the 
rain  in  the  dark,  without  a  lantern  or  an  umbrella  It 
will  take  heaven  to  "even  up"  things  for  such  people. 
This  was  my  last  service  here,  and  many  came  forward 
to  express  their  desire  for  salvation  and  faith  in  Christ. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrows  have  been  prayerfully  and  faith- 
fully sowing  the  good  seed  in  this  wild  and  sterile  soil, 
and  God  will  "give  the  increase." 

The  want  of  good  schools  here  moved  them  to  under- 


108  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

take  to  build  the  "Seminary  of  the  Great  Smokies," 
where  these  scores  of  bright  mountain  boys  and  girls 
can  enjoy  the  advantages  of  other  more  favored  people. 
I  was  glad  to  find  the  foundation  laid,  and  the  frame  up 
for  a  building  of  six  rooms,  the  first  school  of  its  kind 
in  all  this  wild  region.  They  need  help  to  complete  it. 
The  poor  people,  with  little  else  to  give,  have  contrib- 
uted some  lumber,  and  much  labor,  in  digging  out  a 
foundation  in  six  feet  of  rock  in  the  mountain-side.  I 
doubt  if  there  is  a  "higher"  school  anywhere,  and  the 
children  will  have  to  climb  like  squirrels  to  reach  their 
Alma  Mater  on  that  mountain  brow.  But  it  was  the 
best  and  only  place  to  build  it,  for  land  is  scarce  in  the 
Great  Smokies,  and  it  all  stands  on  its  edge.  The  flood 
continued  all  night,  and  if  these  mountains  had  not  been 
built  of  rock,  they  would  have  been  washed  away. 

An  engagement  compelled  me  to  leave  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  I  was  sorry  I  could  not  stay  longer  to  help  those 
faithful  missionaries.  They  deserve  more  than  they  will 
ever  receive  this  side  of  heaven,  but  they  are  content  "to 
labor  and  to  wait." 

The  little  Brown  boy  and  "Joe"  brought  me  down  to 
the  railroad  and  river  another  way,  not  quite  so  bad  as  I 
went  up.  The  flood  of  rain  had  converted  the  river  into 
a  raging  torrent,  rushing  down  from  the  North  Caro- 
lina mountains.  It  had  overwhelmed  the  track  in  some 
places,  and  undermined  it  in  others,  so  that  it  took  all 
hands  from  8  A.  M.  to  12  M.  to  get  back  to  Newport 
without  getting  drowned.  In  the  whole  twenty  miles, 
the  roaring,  rushing  river  tore  down  the  narrow  defile 
between  the  mountains  of  rock,  like  the  rapids  of 
Niagara.    Night  brought  me  to  the  hills  of  the  Watauga, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    109 

and  to  the  mission  of  our  faithful  evanghsts,  the  Par- 
melees.  I  found  them  in  a  little  log-cabin,  at  the  head 
of  a  hollow,  just  wide  enough  for  a  horse  to  get  through. 
They  were  busy  and  happy  teaching  twenty-five  bright 
children  of  the  hills  every  day  in  their  little  cabins,  and 
seventy-five  people  every  Wednesday  night,  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  every  Sunday,  in  an  old  deserted  Dun- 
kard  meeting-house,  half  a  mile  below. 

This  is  the  work  the  Society  of  Soul  Winners  is  doing 
in  fifty  missions,  scattered  over  the  mountains  of  Ken- 
tucky, Tennessee  and  North  Carolina,  beyond  all  others. 
It  is  for  the  regeneration  of  a  race  of  Highlanders,  long 
neglected,  and  worthy  of  a  better  fate. 


IN  THE  GREAT  SMOKY  MOUNTAINS. 

i 
After  a  long  time  and  over  a  long  road,  I  made  my 
third  visit  to  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains,  which  divide 
Tennessee  from  North  Carolina.  The  evening  of  the 
second  day  I  reached  Brown's,  a  little  station  on  thei 
rapid  Pigeon  River,  some  twenty  miles  from  Newport, 
Tennessee.  Clever  Mr.  Messer  met  me  with  the  only 
horse  in  the  neighborhood,  and  I  climbed  five  hundred 
feet,  in  two  miles,  up  to  the  Seminary  of  the  Great 
Smokies,  where  I  found  Miss  Margaret  Gordon  and  her 
mother.  They  have  charge  of  this  mission,  and  are 
universally  beloved,  for  their  own,  and  their  work's  sake. 
There  was  no  appointment  for  preaching,  until  nearly 
dark,  but  a  good  congregation  nearly  filled  the  chapel. 
Where  they  came  from,  one  could  only  guess,  for  few 
houses  were  visible  in  these  wild,  steep  mountains;  and 


110  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

it  was  equally  hard  to  see  how  these  people  make  a  liv- 
ing, in  the  poorest  country   I   have   ever   seen.     Miss 
Gordon  has  a  most  interesting  school,  and  the  only  one 
I  ever  remember  with  every  pupil  present.      I  preached 
three  times  the  next  day  to  most  earnest  congregations, 
every  one  of  whom  walked,  and  a  number  made  confes- 
sion of  Christ.     The  post-office  at  the  Seminary  is  kept 
by  one  of  the  grown  pupils,  who  told  me  his  salary  was 
four  dollars  a  month,  which  nearly  paid  his  board.     A 
tall  Highlander  carried  the  mail,  on  his  shoulder,  to  the 
railroad,  which  consisted  of  two  letters  and  three  postals 
that  day.     H,e  carries  it  three  times  a  week.    This  Semi- 
nary, built  by  Mr.  Barrows,  is  a  monument  to  the  energy 
and  consecrated  zeal  of  a  noble  man  and  his  wife.    It  is 
a  large,  substantial  building,  five  hundred  feet  above  the 
river,  and  four  thousand  five  hundred  feet  below  the  top 
of  the  White  Rock  Mountain,  which  divides  the  two 
States.     Miss  Gordon  and  her  mother  occupy  the  upper 
rooms  of  the  Seminary,  which  are  level  with  the  moun- 
tain behind  it.     Rev.  Mr.  Gordon  and  Mr.  E.  M.  Mon- 
roe, Jr.,  have  visited  and  preached  there  during  the  sum- 
mer.    It  is  a  promising  and  successful  mission.     Want 
of  time  compelled  me  to  leave  early  on  Thursday  morn- 
ing for  the  Ebenezer  Mission,  seven  miles  back  of  Del 
Rio,  on  the  French-Broad  River.     From  the  Seminary, 
we  had  to  descend  to  the  river,  down  a  roaring  cataract, 
which  an  enterprising  Highlander  had  harnessed  to  a 
little  mill,  where  his  few  neighbors  could  get  their  grind- 
ing done.     My  guide  informed  me  the  mill  cost  ten  dol- 
lars.    Money  is  scarcer  in  these  rugged  mountains  than 
the  courage  and  industry  that  make  a  living  for  the 
hardy  people.     At  Newport  I  had  a  pleasant  hour  with 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     Ill 

Brother  Black,  who  speaks  John  Knox's  brogue  and 
orthodoxy,  among  an  appreciative  people.  At  Del  Rio 
I  met  Miss  Leona  Blake,  of  South  Carolina,  on  her  way 
to  the  mission.  ]\Ir.  Munroe  met  us  at  Del  Rio  with  a 
horse  and  mule  to  carry  us  seven  miles  up  the  Big  Creek 
and  across  the  mountain  to  the  Ebenezer  Home.  We 
reached  there  at  dark,  after  Miss  Blake's  horse  had 
thrown  her  over  his  head,  and  then  she  traded  him  for 
the  mule,  after  vv'hich  we  went  safely.  We  found  this 
mission,  founded  by  two  devoted  Moravians,  now  in 
China,  in  a  flourishing  condition  and  hopeful  of  greater 
things.  It  is  admirably  managed  by  Miss  Margaret 
Allison,  of  North  Carolina,  ably  assisted  by  Mr.  Mar- 
shall Munroe,  Jr.,  of  Texas,  and  Miss  Annie  Laurie  Wil- 
liams, of  South  Carolina.  With  commendable  fore- 
thought, they  had  announced  preaching  that  night  and 
every  day  over  the  Sabbath.  Rev.  James  B.  Converse, 
of  Morristown,  who  arrived  to-day,  on  his  regular  visit 
to  the  mission,  preached  a  most  instructive  sermon  the 
first  night.  On  Saturday,  Sunday  and  Monday  we  had 
preaching  twice  daily  to  fine  congregations.  At  night 
the  chapel  was  crowded,  and  on  Sabbath  morning  the 
Sunday  school  filled  the  chapel,  dining-room  and  porch. 
I  do  not  know  where  I  ever  saw  a  finer  lot  of  Highland 
lads  and  lassies.  It  would  have  done  Dr.  Phillips'  heart 
good  to  have  been  there.  We  were  sorry  he  was  not. 
During  the  services  the  profoundest  attention  was  given, 
and  more  than  a  score  of  persons  professed  faith  in  the 
Savior.  Miss  Williams'  school,  also,  was  nearly  unani- 
mous in  accepting  Christ.  It  was  a  season  long  to  be 
remembered  by  the  people  in  these  wild,  poor  mountains, 
so  far  from  the  blessings  others  enjoy,  and  which  some 


112  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

do  not  appreciate.  The  follies  of  fashion,  and  the  dissi- 
pations of  society  have  never  invaded  those  quiet  ham- 
lets in  the  Great  Smokies.  I  did  not  see  a  single  big  hat 
or  a  fashionable  dress.  Mr.  Munroe  is  busy  pushing 
the  chapel  to  completion.  It  is  a  large  substantial  build- 
ing for  school  and  church,  with  rooms  above  for  teach- 
ers and  pupils.  It  has  long  been  needed.  The  poor 
Highlanders  take  great  pride  in  it,  and  freely  give  their 
labor,  having  little  less  to  give.  Other  engagements 
compelled  me  to  leave  early  Tuesday  morning,  and  Mr. 
Richard  James  brought  me  a  mule  to  ride  back  to  Del 
Rio,  nine  miles,  by  his  home  on  the  Muddy  Fork  of  Big 
Creek.  Here  I  found  the  coziest  cottage  and  prettiest 
cove  I  have  ever  yet  seen  in  the  Great  Smokies.  Mr. 
James  generously  offered  to  give  fifteen  acres  of  land, 
and  other  help  from  the  neighbors,  if  we  would  give 
them  better  advantages  of  education  and  religion.  We 
visited  the  school-house  over  the  mountain,  and  found 
it  filled  with  bright  children,  taught  by  a  nice  young 
lady,  in  a  poor,  open  cabin,  which  could  not  be  warmed. 
The  school  is  to  last  four  months,  if  Jack  Frost  does  not 
close  them  out  sooner,  which  he  probably  will.  How 
can  these  Highland  children  ever  get  a  chance  to  be 
educated  under  such  circumstances?  And  they  are  the 
brightest  children  of  the  purest  stock,  and  lots  of  them. 
On  the  way  to  Del  Rio,  we  called  at  a  little  house  by 
the  road-side  and  the  happy  mother  brought  out  her 
three  boys,  all  of  the  same  age  (four  years),  named 
"Bob,"  "Taylor,"  "Ed"  Carmack  and  John  Cox  (two 
governors  and  a  senator  of  Tennessee).  No  wonder  Dr. 
Dabney  said  "these  Highlands  are  the  nursery  and  train- 
ing ground  of  our  country."     No  wonder  their  ancestors 


p^ 

^^^^w« 

^flfP^'-                £„r,H 

nil 

NkW   ChAI'KL   at    Kl'.KNK/.KR 


.School  At  Hki,l-fok-Sai:tin 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    113 

won  the  battles  of  King's  Mountain  and  New  Orleans. 
We  need  these  Highlanders  to  leaven  the  great  influx 
of  foreigners,  seven  millions  of  whom  entered  our  coun- 
try in  the  last  ten  years.  That  night  found  me  at  Mor- 
ristown,  where  I  stayed  with  Dr.  McConnell,  at  Brother 
Converse's  hospitable  home,  after  inspecting  the  Doctor's 
splendid  new  church,  which  appeared  magnificent,  when 
I  remembered  the  poor  cabins  of  the  Great  Smokies. 
Seven  o'clock  the  next  morning  I  took  the  train  to  Wa- 
tauga Hills,  where  I  met  Rev.  R.  F.  King,  the  faithful 
bishop  of  the  "Forks,"  where  he  has  built  a  nice  church 
on  the  spot  where  I  preached  some  years  ago  to  the 
people  seated  on  the  ground.  Here  I  also  met  the 
veterans  of  our  society,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parmelee,  who, 
ten  years  before,  to  the  day,  entered  the  Soul  Winners' 
work  in  "Bloody  Breathitt"  County,  in  the  Kentucky 
Cumberlands.  "Though  faint,  they  are  still  pursuing," 
helping  with  prayers  and  pen,  His  cause,  for  whom  they 
left  their  home  in  New  York  and  Connecticut  many 
years  ago. 

For  them,  and  all  these  self-denying  missionaries,  we 
beg  the  help  of  your  prayers  and  alms.  They  are  worthy 
of  both.  They  labor  in  the  "regions  beyond"  churches 
and  preachers,  with  no  hope  of  reward  but  the  approval 
of  a  good  conscience,  and  the  plaudit  of  the  King  whom 
they  serve. 


A  FLYING  VISIT. 

A  brief  account  of  a  hurried  trip  to  our  missions  in 
the  Great  Smoky  Mountains  may  not  be  uninteresting, 


114  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

especially  to  those  who  have  so  liberally  sustained  the 
work,  and  the  workers.  A  fast  train  carried  me  over 
three  hundred  miles  from  my  home,  to  the  rushing 
waters  of  the  French-Broad  River,  North  Carolina.  The 
same  train  bore  to  the  Missionary  Conference  at  Ashe- 
ville  many  friends  from  all  over  the  South.  I  was  sorry 
I  could  not  have  the  pleasure  of  such  company  and  en- 
tertainment. At  Del  Rio,  near  the  North  Carolina  line, 
I  left  the  railroad,  and  with  Rev.  Dan  Little,  boarded 
a  lumber-wagon  for  our  Ebenezer  Mission. 

As  there  was  no  bed  nor  boards  on  the  wagon,  we 
had  to  ride  on  the  axle,  seven  miles  over  a  terribly  bad 
road.  I  had  to  ride  backwards,  as  Brother  Dan  was 
not  well,  and  had  to  occupy  the  seat  on  the  axle  with 
the  driver.  It  was  a  rough  experience,  but  an  old  sol- 
dier should  not  complain.  At  Del  Rio  we  met  a  warm 
reception  by  the  noble  ladies  who  conduct  the  Ebenezer 
Mission — Miss  Alice  Warren,  assisted  by  Miss  Rose 
Cunningham  (lately  a  missionary  to  Cuba).  These  were 
reinforced  by  Miss  Ella  Keigwin,  from  Florida,  who 
also  had  experience  in  mission  work.  It  would  be  hard 
to  find  three  better  Christian  workers.  They  had  anti- 
cipated our  coming,  and  prepared  to  keep  us  from  get- 
ting lonesome  in  these  Great  Smoky  Mountains. 

Appointments  for  preaching  had  been  made  for  that 
night,  and  twice  on  Saturday  and  twice  on  Sunday.  The 
people  came  day  and  night  with  commendable  zeal, 
though  the  roads  were  rough,  and  they  all  had  to  walk. 
On  Sunday  the  chapel  was  crowded,  and  many  made 
confession  of  faith  in  the  Savior. 

This  is  a  splendid  mission  plant,  of  three  stories,  nicely 
furnished,  the  gift  of  Mr.  Nowack,  the  Moravian,  to  the 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    115 

Soul  Winners.  Early  Monday  morning  we  started  on 
our  way  to  Mr.  Barrows,  at  the  Seminary  of  the  Great 
Smoky  Mountains.  Mr.  Little  went  on  to  Asheville, 
via  Del  Rio.  I  crossed  the  mountain,  on  a  little  mule, 
to  the  railroad,  and  walked  two  and  a  half  miles  on  the 
railroad  to  Bridgeport.  I  preferred  the  mule  and  the 
mountain,  and  walk,  to  the  axle-train  to  Del  Rio.  At 
Newport,  Tennessee,  I  took  the  little  "Pea  Vine"  rail- 
road up  the  Pigeon  River.  At  Brown's,  up  the  river 
about  twenty  miles,  Mr.  Barrows  met  me  with  another 
mule,  and  we  climbed  five  hundred  feet  up  the  Great 
Smoky  Mountain,  to  the  seminary. 

Everything  was  greatly  changed  for  the  better,  since 
my  former  visit.  The  large  Seminary  had  been  built, 
and  furnished,  the  mission-house  greatly  improved,  and 
another  Grace  had  been  added  to  this  excellent  family. 
They  were  all  well,  happy  and  busy,  and  nearer  heaven 
than  most  of  us. 

I  reached  the  home  at  6  P.  M.,  Monday.  At  7  P.  M. 
the  Seminary  Chapel  was  crowded  with  about  one  hun- 
dred people,  all  of  whom  walked,  after  a  hard  day's 
work.  This  is  the  busy  season  here  and  everybody 
works,  with  no  exception,  even  the  women  and  children. 
It  is  an  awful  poor  country,  and  so  steep ;  most  all  work 
is  done  with  the  hoe. 

The  mission  here  is  prospering,  after  some  four  years' 
hard  work  of  these  faithful  and  eflficient  missionaries. 
At  six  the  next  morning  I  took  the  train  for  the  mission- 
field  in  Mitchell  County,  North  Carolina.  Providence 
sent  clever  John  Stewart  to  meet  me  by  chance,  and 
give  me  a  cordial  welcome  to  his  hospitable  home.  With 
only  Sunday  morning  to  give  nQt\ce,  the  new  axid  coniv 


116  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

modious  church  was  full  at  ii  A.  M.  Is  it  a  wonder 
God  loves  the  mountains  and  the  mountaineers?  Nearly 
every  great  event  in  the  life  of  Christ  is  connected  with 
some  mountain,  from  His  first  sermon  to  His  crucifixion 
and  ascension.  Three  splendid  North  Carolina  women, 
teachers  of  our  missions  in  this  county,  met  me  at  the 
church — Misses  Bessie  Knox,  Mary  Price  and  Elva  Mc- 
Dowell. No  wonder  the  old  North  State  is  proud  of 
her  daughters. 

Monday  morning  found  me  going  down  the  rushing 
Estatoa,  through  the  great  gorge  of  the  Iron  Mountain 
to  our  missions  on  the  Watauga.  Here  I  visited  those 
Nestors  among  the  Soul  Winners — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Par- 
melee — who  have,  for  six  years,  held  forth  the  word  of 
life  to  the  neglected  Highlanders  of  Kentucky  and  Ten- 
nessee, and  who  are  determined  to  die  at  their  post. 
May  that  day  be  distant.  Brother  King  and  his  faithful 
wife  met  me  at  the  station  and  accompanied  me.  I  was 
sorry  I  did  not  have  time  to  visit  them  and  their  field 
in  Smoky,  where  they  are  trying  to  build  a  chapel.  The 
congregation  sat  on  the  ground,  under  the  Oaks,  when 
I  preached  there  last. 

At  6  A.  M.  the  next  morning  I  started  to  visit  the 
mission  of  Misses  Davidson  and  Hartwell,  on  Camp 
Creek,  forty  miles  below,  under  the  Great  Nola  Chucky 
Mountain.  Nine  miles  of  bad  road  from  Greenville 
brought  me  to  the  mission  where  Miss  Davidson  lives 
and  labors.  Her  companion,  Mi&s  Hartwell,  had  gone 
to  Rochester,  New  York,  to  solicit  funds  to  help  build  a 
larger  school-house  and  a  little  mission-house  to  live 
in.  They  are  most  deserving  and  self-denying  Chris- 
tians, and  doing  a  noble  work  among  those  poor  people, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     117 

who  live  on  the  borderland  of  the  world.  I  wish  I  could 
lend  my  eyes  to  the  Christian  people  who  read  this  ac- 
count. Then  we  would  not  need  money  to  give  a  scant 
support  to  these  faithful  teachers,  and  tens  of  thousands 
of  our  poor  countrymen  would  have  the  Gospel,  and 
richer  rewards  await  the  faithful  helpers  "at  the  Great 
Day  Coming." 


BEAR  CREEK. 

That  name  is  neither  euphonious  nor  classical,  but  it 
is  more.  It  is  immortal.  Like  the  annals  of  the  poor, 
its  story  is  short  and  simple. 

One  mild  September  afternoon,  our  horses  carried  us 
over  a  mountain,  through  an  unbroken  wilderness,  to 
the  head  of  Bear  Creek.  Its  waters  divide  "Bloody 
Breathitt"  and  classic  Lee  Counties,  Kentucky.  Be- 
tween wooded  mountains,  it  winds  its  way  to  the  Middle 
Fork  of  the  Kentucky  River,  into  which  it  empties  its 
muddy  waters  several  miles  above  the  junction  of  the 
three  rivers. 

It  lies  in  the  "regions  beyond";  beyond  the  railroads 
and  turnpikes ;  beyond  the  blue  grass  and  brick  houses ; 
beyond  the  churches  and  Sabbath  schools. 

The  only  road  up  Bear  Creek  is  a  devious  path,  prob- 
ably not  so  good  as  when  Daniel  Boone  killed  bear  and 
bufifalo  and  Indians  there  a  hundred  years  ago.  The 
little  "patches"  of  the  settlers  have  pushed  the  path  out 
of  the  narrow  valley  up  on  the  mountain-side  in  many 
places.  But  Bear  Creek  is  in  "the  world" — the  world 
into  which  we  are  sent.     It  is  peopled  with  "creatures" 


118  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

— the  creatures  to  whom  we  are  sent  to  "preach  the  Gos- 
pel." The  old  log  school-house  was  crowded  with 
people,  inside  and  out,  and  it  was  as  easy  to  preach  to 
those  outside  as  inside.  Indeed,  there  was  not  much 
difference  between  the  two  sides. 

They  had  no  church.  Few  of  them  have  ever  seen 
one.  They  had  no  preacher.  Few  of  them  ever  passed 
that  way.  The  people  did  not  know  much,  but  they 
knew  they  were  sinners  and  needed  a  Savior, — knew 
they  must  die,  and  wanted  a  better  home  than  the  cabins 
on  Bear  Creek.  So  I  tried  to  tell  them  of  both.  It  was 
not  much  trouble.  I  did  not  have  to  read  it.  The  text 
was  the  healing  of  the  leper.  It  taught  the  hard  doc- 
trines of  Calvinism,  of  our  sin  and  ruin,  and  the  glorious 
Gospel  of  healing  and  life.  They  felt  the  disease,  and 
saw  the  Great  Physician,  and  followed  the  leper  to  His 
feet,  sixteen  of  them.  It  was  Pentecost  on  Bear  Creek. 
Old  men  and  women,  young  men  and  maidens,  and 
little  children,  sought  His  life-giving  touch,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, received  it.  I  baptized  twelve  of  them,  some  of 
them  well  stricken  in  years.  There  was  joy  on  Bear 
Creek  and  in  heaven  that  night. 

An  humble  log-cabin  nearby  furnished  us  shelter 
until  next  day.  It  was  the  home  of  two  women,  both 
of  whose  husbands  had  been  murdered.  Their  house 
had  only  one  room,  but  their  hearts  were  four  stories 
high. 

At  10  o'clock  the  next  morning  and  at  four  in  the 
evening,  I  preached  to  the  school-house  full  of  eager 
souls.  Ten  more  gladly  received  Christ,  and  were  bap- 
tized. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    119 


THE  MORMONS  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

My  reply  to  your  request  to  write  something  about 
the  ]\Iormons  has  been  delayed  by  other  matters,  and 
the  hope  that  more  competent  hands  would  do  it.  The 
conviction  that  somebody  should  expose  this  monster 
iniquity  of  the  century  only  impels  me  to  comply  with 
your  request. 

I  shall  have  time  now,  only  to  give  an  outline  of  their 
origin  and  teachings.  It  would  take  volumes  to  fully 
set  forth  the  history  of  this  modern  abomination. 

I  feel  confident  that  many  of  our  people  do  not  know 
the  character  of  this  body,  nor  the  magnitude  of  the 
effort  it  is  making  to  spread  its  doctrines.  General 
Eaton  (ex-Commissioner  of  Education  of  the  United 
States)  says  that  their  missionaries  are  estimated  to  num- 
ber two  thousand  three  hundred. 

I  know  they  are  travelling  all  over  our  land,  two  by 
two,  canvassing  every  school  district,  distributing  litera- 
ture, and  preaching  in  public  school-houses,  contrary  to 
our  law,  which  says,  "No  sectarian,  infidel,  or  immoral 
doctrine  shall  be  taught  in  our  school-houses."  I  have 
met  them  in  the  most  distant  and  inaccessible  parts  of 
the  mountains.  "They  compass  sea  and  land  to  make 
one  proselyte."  They  have  more  missionaries  in  Ken- 
tucky (and  probably  in  every  Southern  State)  than  all 
other  denominations  together.  They  have  members  in 
every  State  and  Territory  but  five,  and  have  scores  of 
missionaries  in  foreign  lands,  and  are  winning  perverts 
to  their  faith  by  thousands.  Of  course,  they  are  among 
the  poor  and  ignorant  classes,  but  they  have  souls,  and 
constitute  the  mass  of  mankind. 


120  Galax  Gatherebs,  and 

As  is  well  known,  the  founder  of  this  sect  was  Joseph 
Smith,  who  was  born  in  Vermont  in  1805,  but  brought 
up  in  New  York,  at  Palmyra.  His  mother  was  an  igno- 
rant and  superstitious  fortune-teller,  and  his  neighbors 
pronounced  him  "an  ignorant,  idle  youth,  given  to 
chicken-stealing."  He  could  not  write,  though  he  could 
read,  and  his  favorite  books  were  "Capt.  Kidd,  the 
Pirate,"  and  "Stephen  Burroughs,  the  Clerical  Scoun- 
drel." How  naturally  his  after-life  took  the  complexion 
of  his  companions.  His  associates  in  starting  his  church 
were  Sidney  Rigdon,  a  backsliding  preacher,  and  Parky 
P.  Pratt,  a  travelling  tin-peddler,  all  unscrupulous,  cun- 
ning and  characterless.  They  were  followed  by  Brigham 
Young,  whom  Judge  Goodwin  (editor  of  the  Salt  Lake 
Tribune)  describes  as  the  "worst  of  men";  intellectually 
he  was  not  bright,  but  he  was  full  of  animal  magnetism ; 
and  though  his  heart  was  that  of  a  sheep,  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  wolf  in  his  forehead ;  possessing  a  stub- 
bornness that  never  yielded,  and  a  plausible  tongue.  His 
avarice  was  measureless.  He  never  looked  on  without 
coveting  his  neighbor's  fair  wife,  good  horse,  or  profit- 
able investments.  From  such  a  source  nothing  but 
Mormonism  could  proceed,  and  it  is  worthy  of  its 
parentage. 

The  so-called  "Book  of  Mormon"  is  a  romance,  en- 
titled, "The  Manuscript  Found,"  written  by  an  invalid 
Congregational  preacher  named  Solomon  Spaulding,  of 
Ohio,  but  never  published.  It  gives  in  Biblical  style  a 
fanciful  history  of  the  Mound-builders,  a  people  who  are 
supposed  to  have  preceded  the  Indians  in  the  Ohio  Val- 
ley. This  manuscript  fell  into  the  hands  of  Smith  or 
Rigdon  (stolen  probably),  and  was  grossly  altered  to 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     121 

suit  their  purpose.  This  is  the  "Book  of  Mormon." 
The  Mormon  Bible  is  a  sacreligious  imitation  of  the 
Holy  Bible,  changed  to  suit  the  revolting  doctrines  of 
the  new  faith  of  its  founders. 

"Joe"  Smith  was  killed  by  his  indignant  and  outraged 
neighbors,  at  Carthage,  Illinois,  in  1844.  Pratt  was 
killed  in  Arkansas  in  1856  for  stealing  a  man's  wife. 
Rigdon  was  expelled  from  the  Mormon  church  and 
given  over  to  Satan  by  Brigham  Young. 

For  doctrine,  the  Mormon  church  rests  on  two  pil- 
lars, polytheism  and  polygamy,  twin  relics  of  heathen- 
ism :  many  gods  and  many  wives.  Take  these  away  and 
it  falls  like  the  temple  of  Dagon. 

Adam  is  the  Mormon  god,  and  all  the  rest  of  their 
gods  were  men,  and  became  gods  by  practicing  poly- 
gamy. They  teach  that  "God,  angels  and  men  are  all 
of  one  species." 

They  teach  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  a  man,  one  of  the 
sons  of  our  Father  and  our  God.  I  quote  their  own 
language. 

Their  whole  system  is  idolatrous  man-worship.  They 
teach  that  their  gods  are  polygamists;  that  Jesus  Christ 
had  three  wives. 

Again,  their  chief  god  changes  his  mind  when  it  suits 
him  (or  them)  as  he  did  in  once  denouncing  polygamy 
(in  1830)  and  afterwards  recommending  it  (in  1843)  to 
accommodate  Joseph  Smith. 

It  is  the  fashion  of  their  missionaries  to  deny  these 
well-known  facts,  and  especially  their  well-known  prac- 
tice of  polygamy.  But  this  is  of  a  piece  of  their  whole 
system  of  deception  in  beguiling  the  ignorant  into  their 
net.     They  are  "wolves  in  sheep's  clothing." 


122  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

Rev.  Dr.  Wishard,  of  Salt  Lake  City,  says  that  poly- 
gamy is  fundamental  to  the  system;  that  "it  is  now 
taught  and  practiced  in  all  the  towns  of  Utah,  where  it 
has  ever  been  practiced."  "The  assertion  that  polygamy 
is  dead  would  produce  a  smile  on  the  face  of  an  honest 
Mormon."  This  is  the  recent  testimony  of  a  distin- 
guished clergyman  who  knows  them  well.  "To  live  our 
religion  is  to  live  in  polygamy,"  said  their  priest,  Mc- 
Allister. 

John  D.  Lee,  for  thirty-seven  years  a  Mormon  bishop 
and  priest,  who  was  executed  for  murder,  confessed  that 
he  had  nineteen  wives  and  sixty-four  children. 

"The  Mormon  Saints"  (they  call  themselves  the  "Lat- 
ter Day  Saints")  "have  made  Utah  a  modern  Sodom, 
and  the  paradise  of  libertines."  This  is  the  testimony  of 
Judge  Boreman,  for  eight  years  associate  judge  of  the 
Supreme  bench  of  Utah,  and  before  whom  Bishop  John 
D.  Lee  was  tried  before  he  was  executed.  It  was  Lee 
that  led  the  Mountain  Meadow  massacre,  in  which  more 
than  one  hundred  and  twenty  innocent  emigrants  were 
murdered,  and  their  property  taken,  in  1857. 

Of  course,  you  would  not  expect  to  find  truth  or 
sobriety  or  other  virtues  in  such  company.  So  we  were 
told  that  profanity  and  perjury  are  almost  universal.  A 
resident  of  Salt  Lake  City  challenged  any  Mormon  to 
produce  a  single  case  where  a  Mormon  was  ever  cut  off 
from  his  church  for  murder,  theft,  lying  drunkenness, 
fornication,  profanity,  or  Sabbath-breaking.  Miss  Mary 
Cort  (  who  taught  five  years  in  Utah)  told  me  she  never 
knew  a  Mormon  who  would  tell  the  truth  when  it  would 
convict  another  Mormon. 

Prof.  Coyner,  for  many  years  superintendent  of  Salt 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     123 

Lake  Collegiate  Institute,  says,  "Business  has  thrown 
me  among  all  classes  of  society  in  various  parts  of  the 
world,  but  the  most  profane  and  vulgar  address  I  ever 
listened  to,  I  heard  delivered  by  Brigham  Young,  the 
Mormon  high  priest  and  prophet." 

"No  pen  can  describe  the  demoralizing  effect  upon 
the  young,  nor  adequately  set  forth  the  lack  of  morality 
on  the  part  of  a  vast  majority  of  young  men  and  women 
who  are  brought  up  in  connection  with  it.  In  fact,  they 
don't  seem  to  know  what  the  term  'morality'  means." 
So  says  Rev.  Dr.  McNiece,  for  many  years  pastor  of  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Salt  Lake  City. 

Of  course,  hatred  and  persecution  naturally  belong  to 
such  a  system.  And  from  the  beginning  they  have 
waged  an  unrelenting  warfare  against  all  others. 

Their  creed  teaches  disloyalty  to  all  civil  government, 
and  the  President  of  the  United  States  had  to  remove 
Brigham  Young  from  being  Governor  of  Utah,  and  ap- 
point a  law-abiding  citizen  of  Georgia  in  his  place. 

Private  murder  by  their  "blood  avengers"  culminated 
at  last  in  the  "Mountain  Meadow  Massacre,"  when  John 
D.  Lee,  a  Mormon  elder,  with  a  band  of  Mormons  and 
Indians,  in  Southern  Utah,  murdered,  in  cold  blood,  one 
hundred  and  twenty  men,  women  and  children,  emigrat- 
ing from  Arkansas  to  California.  This  man,  inspired 
by  Brigham  Young,  was  executed  at  last  by  the  United 
States  authorities,  after  twenty  years'  delay  by  the  Mor- 
mons, who  prevented  his  earlier  conviction.  Tlie  pen- 
alty for  revealing  the  secrets  of  the  Endowment  House, 
where  all  marriages  are  celebrated,  is  "to  have  your 
throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  and  your  tongue  torn  from 
your  mouth." 


I  GrALAX  GaTHEREHS,   AND 

Their  vindictive  spirit  may  be  learned  from  this  ex- 
pression of  one  of  their  apostles,  "I  do  pray  for  our 
enemies.  I  pray  that  God  will  damn  them  and  send 
them  down  to  hell."     Such  is  the  spirit  of  Mormonism. 

The  degradation  of  Mormonism  falls  more  heavily 
upon  woman  than  upon  man,"  says  General  Eaton.  She 
is  made  the  tool  and  the  slave  of  their  greed  and  lust. 
She  cannot  live  on  earth  except  as  a  concubine,  nor 
enter  heaven  at  all,  except  by  marriage.  "I  have  shed 
tears  enough  since  I  have  been  in  polygamy  to  drown 
myself  twice  over."  This  is  the  language  of  a  Mormon 
wife,  of  the  prophet  himself.  Another  said,  "The  plains 
from  Missouri  to  this  valley  are  strewn  with  the  bones 
of  those  whom  this  system  has  killed,  and  the  cemetery 
hill  is  full  of  them,  but  every  one  of  these  women  is  now 
wearing  a  martyr's  crown." 

Is  anything  else  necessary  to  damn  such  a  system? 
You  wonder  that  it  could  exist  at  all  in  this  country  of 
ours.  But  remember  the  great  majority  of  its  adher- 
ents are  very  ignorant  and  poor  people,  and  many  are 
foreigners,  who  cannot  read  our  language;  many  are 
sincere  and  honest  in  their  belief  because  they  are  en- 
slaved by  wicked  and  designing  teachers. 

But  I  weary  you,  and  have  no  space  to  say  anything 
of  the  tyranny  of  their  priesthood,  nor  the  greed  of  their 
tithing  system,  with  an  income  of  a  million  a  year,  and 
no  account  of  it  given,  nor  of  their  celestial  marriages 
(of  the  living  to  the  dead),  nor  their  baptism  for  the 
dead,  nor  their  doctrine  of  the  "blood  atonement"  which 
taught  that  a  man  might  be  murdered  to  save  his  soul. 
These  are  some,  not  all,  of  the  tenets  of  this  monstrous 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     125 

crime  of  the  nineteenth  century,  this  open  sore  of  the 
world. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  Rev.  Dr.  McNiece  says,  "Let 
Paganism,  Judaism,  Jesuitism,  Protestantism  and  Dia- 
bolism be  shaken  up  and  the  result  is  Mormonism." 

God's  description  of  this  abomination  is  found  in  2 
Peter  ii. 

To  his  hands  we  confidently  commit  its  overthrow,  and 
pray  for  our  country  and  our  chilrden. 


SATAN  AND  THE  MORMONS. 

For  the  information  of  those  earnest  Christians  who 
are  trying  to  send  "the  Gospel  to  every  creature"  I  will 
give  some  account  of  an  humble  endeavor  to  preach  it 
to  our  poor  neighbors. 

On  Tuesday  morning,  July  19th,  I  left  my  home  for 
the  mountains  of  Kentucky  with  my  little  daughter, 
Annie,  and  her  companion,  Susie  Chambers,  to  play  the 
organ  and  help  in  the  singing. 

We  spent  the  first  night  in  Jackson,  the  capital  of 
Southeastern  Kentucky,  and  the  next  morning  we 
started  to  the  waters  of  the  Middle  Fork  of  the  Ken- 
tucky River,  twenty  miles  over  the  mountains.  At  El- 
katawa,  a  mule-team  took  aboard  the  girls  and  baggage, 
organ,  tent,  boxes  of  Bibles,  tracts,  etc.  Mr.  Moore 
kindly  loaned  me  his  horse,  and  he  rode  with  the  girls 
and  driver,  John  Spicer,  in  the  wagon. 

We  got  an  early  start,  but  had  gone  only  a  little  way 
when  one  of  our  mules  had  a  "spell,"  and  fell  down  and 
rolled  ov-er  in  the  harness.    This  operation  he  repeated 


126  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

until  he  had  consumed  half  a  day  and  all  of  our  patience, 
so  we  sent  and  got  another  mule,  after  walking  across 
the  mountain  to  the  South  Fork  of  Canoe  Fork  of  the 
Middle  Fork  of  Kentucky  River.  At  Samuel  Callahan's 
we  found  Mr.  Leonard  Mason,  one  of  our  "Soul  Win- 
ners," who  is  laboring  in  that  section,  organizing  and 
teaching  Sabbath  schools  and  distributing  Bibles,  tracts, 
etc. 

Just  as  we  crossed  the  Kentucky  River,  a  big  rain 
caught  us  and  poured  down  for  an  hour  or  two  on  our 
heads,  organ,  tent,  and  "things,"  but  poorly  protected 
by  a  wagon  cover,  hastily  stretched  on  sticks.  Eight  miles 
further  up  this  beautiful  river,  in  the  rain,  brought  us  to 
Crockettsville,  which  we  found  to  be  a  movable  post- 
ofifice,  sometimes  up  the  river  and  sometimes  down.  It 
is  at  present  located  at  the  mouth  of  Long's  Creek,  at 
Mr.  Beaton's.  Finding  no  place  there  for  our  tent,  we 
went  a  mile  up  Long's  Creek  to  the  fork  at  Mr.  Calla- 
han's. Here  we  found  a  Kentucky  welcome  and  gen- 
erous hospitality  at  Edward  Callahan's.  They  took  u.^. 
all  in  out  of  the  wet,  and  made  us  feel  at  home. 

Thursday  morning,  a  force  of  clever  men  helped  ur> 
put  up  the  big  tent  and  seat  it  with  rough  planks  from 
a  saw-mill  nearby.  God  had  planted  a  grove  of  big 
sycamores  there  years  ago,  just  where  we  wanted  them, 
and  by  them  we  spread  His  tabernacle.  At  2  o'clock 
we  had  it  up,  and  at  three,  I  preached  to  some  forty 
people. 

The  next  morning  we  began  at  half-past  9  o'clock, 
because  the  people  came,  and  closed  at  3  P.  M.,  with 
recess  for  dinner  (though  a  good  many  had  no  dinner). 
This  order  we  maintained  for  ten  days,  only  holding 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     127 

until  4  P.  M.  generally.  It  was  more  teaching  than 
preaching,  or,  rather,  preaching  that  was  teaching.  The 
exercises  were  relieved  by  songs,  prayers  and  sometimer> 
exhortations  of  the  two  young  men  (Mr.  Moore  and 
Mr.  Mason),  who  rendered  valuable  assistance  in  sing- 
ing, seating  the  people,  etc.  Just  as  we  expected,  Satan 
came  up  with  the  sons  of  God  and  tried  to  break  up  our 
meeting.  Before  we  could  begin  on  Saturday  morning, 
two  leading  citizens  fell  out  and  fought  over  seventy-five 
cents.  They  had  come  to  church  unarmed,  and  before 
they  could  get  weapons  we  began  our  service,  and  at 
the  close  got  both  beligerants  to  our  quarters  and  settled 
the  difficulty.  One  paid  the  other  seventy-five  cents ; 
both  withdrew  their  insults  and  shook  hands,  and  whip- 
ped the  Devil. 

On  Sunday  a  great  crowd  came,  and  after  the  morn- 
ing service  one  young  lady.  Miss  Lucinda  Deaton,  came 
forward  to  profess  her  faith  in  Christ.  At  the  afternoon 
services  a  number  more,  mostly  grown  persons,  made 
confession  of  faith  in  Christ.  None  of  these  I  received 
until  further  instruction  and  inquiry.  While  the  mass 
of  these  people  are  unlearned  in  books,  they  are  far  from 
being  ignorant.  They  are  unusually  bright,  quick- 
witted and  intelligent,  but  need  instruction  in  the  Bible, 
because  of  their  long  isolation  from  schools  and 
churches.  For  fifty  miles  along  this  river  there  is  only 
one  church,  a  little  log-building  occupied  occasionally 
by  Baptist  brethren.  What  other  preaching  they  have  is 
done  in  little  school-houses,  by  their  native  preachers, — • 
some  good,  some  bad,  all  unlearned. 

On  Monday  morning  I  lectured  on  the  Morman 
Abomination,  as  I  knew  their  missionaries  were  every- 


128  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

where  throughout  these  mountains,  trying  to  mislead 
the  people.  I  had  sent  to  my  friend,  Dr.  Wishard,  at 
Salt  Lake  City,  and  obtained  the  best  literature  on  the 
subject,  and  judged  the  heresy  out  of  the  mouths  of  its 
leading  apostles.  Miss  Mary  Cort,  of  Pennsylvania, 
for  five  years  a  teacher  in  Utah,  was  present  and  corro- 
borated the  facts  from  her  own  observation.  This  ex- 
cellent Christian  lady  is  now  organizing  and  teaching 
Sabbath  schools  in  the  neighboring  county  of  Owsley, 
and  doing  a  noble  work. 

In  spite  of  rains,  every  day,  the  congregations  and 
interest  increased  through  the  week,  and  a  number  con- 
fessed their  faith  in  Christ. 

On  Wednesday,  Satan  came  up  again,  with  two  Mor- 
mon elders,  who  requested  permission  to  explain  their 
doctrines.  I  informed  them  I  had  already  explained 
them, — all  their  "Thirteen  Articles  of  Faith," — even 
more  fully  than  they  did.  They  "believed  in  God" 
(several  of  them),  but  forgot  to  tell  the  people  that  they 
held  that  Adam  was  God,  and  Eve  was  one  of  God's 
wives;  that  Jesus  was  His  Son,  but  not  a  Savior;  that 
the  Holy  Ghost  was  a  man ;  that  they  believed  men 
became  God's  by  becoming  Mormons  and  marrying 
every  woman  they  could  "fool" ;  that  no  unmarried 
woman  could  go  to  heaven;  that  their  Danites  were 
organized  to  murder  those  who  repudiated  the  Mormon 
heresy.  They  were  shocked  at  my  want  of  brotherly 
love,  but  confessed  that  Brigham  Young  had  seven 
wives  (he  had  nineteen  or  more),  but  excused  him  be- 
cause he  was  a  "Prophet  of  God."  I  said  that  I  was 
somewhat  of  a  prophet  myself,  and  had  only  one,  all 
that  God  allowed  any  bishop.     They  concluded  that  we 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    129 

were  incorrigible,  and  took  a  sudden  departure  for  dis- 
tant fields.  The  people  were  incensed  at  their  presence, 
and  bade  them  leave  their  country. 

On  Saturday,  a  very  large  congregation  came  and 
filled  the  big  tabernacle,  which  had  about  five  hundred 
seats.  This  morning  I  preached  on  the  mode  of  bap- 
tism, as  only  one  seemed  to  be  known  in  this  country, 
where  I  did  not  find  a  single  Methodist  and  only  one 
member  of  our  Church.  To-day  a  Universalist  preacher 
came,  but  did  not  remain  to  both  services.  I  asked  the 
people  if  I  should  preach  the  whole  Gospel,  which  said 
the  "wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and  all  the  nations 
that  forget  God."  They  asked  me  to  preach  the  whole 
truth,  and  I  did  the  best  I  could,  and  some  fifty-four 
persons  confessed  the  Savior  that  day.  A  big  storm 
came  up  in  the  afternoon  and  blew  my  tent  down,  but 
we  succeeded  in  getting  it  fixed  without  anyone  being 
hurt.  On  the  preceding  Tuesday,  Rev.  Dr.  E.  W. 
Bedinger,  in  the  employment  of  the  "Soul  Winners," 
came  up  and  preached  two  excellent  sermons,  and  then 
went  to  the  Upper  Quicksand  to  hold  a  meeting  with 
our  young  missionaries  (Allen  and  Crockett),  who  are 
laboring  in  that  destitute  country.  On  Wednesday,  Rev. 
Mr.  Baxter,  of  Booneville,  came  up  and  spoke  a  good 
word  for  our  Lord.  Rev.  William  Jones,  of  New  York, 
an  aged  Presbyterian,  teaching  in  Owsley  County,  was 
with  us  Saturday  and  Sunday,  and  rendered  valuable 
assistance.  At  every  service  I  gave  a  Bible  or  Testa- 
ment to  every  family  which  had  none,  and  it  took  some 
three  hundred  copies  to  supply  the  demand.  Generous 
friends  in  New  York  had  sent  them  for  this  purpose. 
Besides  these,  we  gave  away  thousands  of  tracts,  papers, 


130  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

etc.,  all  of  which  were  gladly  received.      Many  of  the 
older  people  could  not  read,  but  their  children  could. 

God  gave  us  a  good  day  on  Sunday,  and  a  great 
blessing.  The  people  from  four  counties  began  to 
assemble  at  8  o'clock  A.  M.,  and  at  nine  the  big  tent 
was  full,  and  hundreds  stood  outside.  I  suppose  there 
were  six  or  seven  hundred  people  present ;  some  said  a 
thousand.  (We  could  have  done  without  about  twenty- 
five  babies,  but  didn't  mention  it.)  At  9  o'clock  Messrs. 
Chambers,  Moore  and  Mason  conducted  a  Sabbath 
school  under  difficulties  in  such  a  crowd.  At  10  A.  M. 
we  began  the  services,  and  at  the  close  of  the  sermon 
some  thirty-two  persons  came  forward  to  confess  the 
Savior.  It  was  Pentecost  on  Long's  Creek,  and  the 
people  were  moved  to  tears  of  joy.  At  2  P.  M.  I 
preached  again,  and  fifteen  more  confessed  Christ,  after 
which  Brother  Jones  and  I  baptized  eighty-eight  per- 
sons, most  of  whom  were  grown  and  heads  of  families. 
After  this,  by  the  unanimous  request  of  the  people,  we 
organized  a  church  with  one  hundred  and  thirty-one 
members.  The  congregation  nominated  and  elected 
Albert  Ingold,  A.  C.  Adams  and  John  A.  Turner  to  be 
elders,  all  Christian  men  of  age  and  experience,  and  of 
"good  report."  Mr.  Ingold  is  a  native  of  North  Caro- 
lina; Mr.  Adams,  the  only  Presbyterian  there  before, 
and  a  teacher  in  the  neighborhood.  The  deacons  elected 
were  Samuel  Davidson,  Jesse  Spicer,  and  Daniel  Turner, 
excellent  young  men  in  whom  the  people  have  confi- 
dence. These  were  duly  ordained  and  installed  by 
Brother  Jones  and  myself,  after  their  duties  had  been 
explained  and  the  warrant  and  qualifications  for  these 
offices  read  out  of  God's  Word.  A  subscription  of  about 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlandees.    131 

four  hundred  dollars  was  raised  to  build  a  church.  This 
is  a  good  sum  for  poor  people  who  were  never  taught 
to  give  anything  to  the  church.  Most  of  it  was  to  be 
paid  in  lumber,  work,  etc.,  because  they  have  little  or  no 
money.  They  thought  they  could  build  it  without  help. 
Edward  Callahan,  Berry  Turner  and  Robert  Deaton, 
three  business  men,  were  elected  a  committee  to  build 
the  church.  iVrthur  McDaniel,  Joseph  Smith,  and  Gran- 
ville Riley  were  elected  trustees.  So  closed  a  day  long 
to  be  remembered  on  the  Kentucky  River,  when  God 
visited  His  children  in  the  Highlands.  At  5  P.  M.  I 
dismissed  them,  and  they  went  reluctantly  to  their  homes, 
some  of  them  ten  and  fifteen  miles  away. 

Many  promised  to  set  up  a  family  altar  in  their  homes. 
That  God  will  keep  them  is  our  humble  prayer.  We 
ask  yours  also.  We  hope  soon  to  see  a  faithful  shep- 
herd over  this  new  flock  of  our  Master's  fold.  In  the 
meantime,  Mr.  Moore  and  Mr.  Mason  will  teach  the  chil- 
dren in  the  Sabbath  school  and  instruct  the  people  as 
they  are  able.  Having  exhausted  our  time  and  strength, 
we  began  our  journey  home  early  Monday  morning; 
but  not  until  we  had  laid  ofT  the  site  for  the  church  and 
broken  dirt  for  the  foundation.  Another  rain  caught  us 
on  the  way,  but  fortunately  we  had  crossed  the  moun- 
tain. We  reached  the  railroad  four  minutes  before  the 
train,  and  then  home  safely  on  Tuesday,  thankful  for 
the  privilege  of  preaching  the  Gospel  anywhere,  and 
especially  where  it  is  so  much  needed  and  so  gratefully 
received. 


132  Galax  Gatherers,  and 


THE  MISSION  ON  THE  CANOE. 

Away  up  in  the  Cumberlands  is  a  little  glassy  stream, 
one  of  a  thousand,  meandering  between  mountains  of 
green  foliage,  and  called  by  the  natives,  Canoe. 

It  is  so  far  out  of  the  world  few  people  ever  find  it, 
except  "log  men"  and  "sheep  men,"  and  the  Great  Shep- 
herd's men,  seeking  for  His  lost  sheep.  Even  these  last- 
named  have  not  been  as  diligent  as  their  Master,  for 
many  of  these  lost  ones  are  still  wandering  over  the 
mountains  without  a  shepherd  or  a  fold. 

Forty  families  live  on  this  little  stream,  which  is  only 
a  few  miles  in  length,  and  many  more  live  on  the  beau- 
tiful Middle  Fork  of  the  Kentucky  River,  into  which 
Canoe  pours  its  perennial  tribute  of  pure  water. 

Early  this  summer,  the  Soul  Winners  established  a 
mission  there,  and  placed  Mrs.  Kate  Robards,  of  Wil- 
more,  Kentucky,  and  Mrs.  Mattie  Stewart,  of  Micanopy, 
Florida,  in  charge.  Of  course,  there  was  no  church 
there,  nor  Sabbath  school,  nor  house  where  they  could 
teach,  but  a  deserted  log-cabin  which  clever  Ned  Turner 
loaned  the  ladies  after  he  had  moved  out  his  corn-fodder. 

This  little  house  was  soon  filled  with  men,  women  and 
children,  all  eager  to  hear  the  "sweet  old  story,"  which 
was  new  to  very  many  of  them. 

I  need  not  say,  it  was  told  them,  as  only  a  loving 
woman  can  tell  it.  Soon  so  many  came  Mrs.  Robards 
had  to  move  out  of  the  cabin  into  the  big  room  outside, 
under  the  broad-armed  beech-trees,  by  the  little  stream. 
Here  scores  of  children  and  old  people,  too,  sat  on  cross- 
ties  and  learned  lessons  of  eternal  life.    Mr.  Elias  Moore, 


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Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    133 

a  mountain  boy,  and  seminary  student,  helped  in  the 
week  and  preached  on  Sunday  to  big  crowds,  who  sat 
on  the  ground,  on  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  school  went  on  week  after  week,  and  the  children 
of  the  hills,  quick  of  wit  and  light  of  foot,  devoured  the 
little.  Cathechisms,  until  they  got  to  the  big  ones,  memor- 
ized the  Scriptures,  and  made  their  mountain  dells  echo 
with  the  songs  of  Zion. 

In  due  time,  Dr.  Guerrant  went  up  and  spread  a  big 
white  cotton  church  on  the  bank  of  the  Canoe,  to  help 
the  good  women  in  their  work  of  soul  winning. 

Little  Anne  took  her  mountain  organ  to  help  lead  the 
singing.  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  the  children  and 
old  people  came.  They  came  in  crowds,  on  foot  and 
horse-back  and  mule-back.  Came  at  8  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  came  to  stay  all  day,  and  sit  on  a  six-inch 
plank,  within  six  inches  of  the  ground. 

God  came,  too.  His  Son  said  he  would,  even  where 
two  or  three  others  come.  He  never  fails.  He  loves  to 
come  to  church  and  see  His  children.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  say.  He  brought  a  blessing  with  Him.  He  al- 
ways does. 

Day  after  day,  one  and  another  of  His  humble  children 
came  back  to  His  Father's  house  and  heart;  and  on 
Thursday,  there  was  joy  on  Canoe  and  in  Heaven,  when 
fifty  confessed  the  Savior,  and  thirty-five  were  baptized. 
No  such  a  day  had  ever  been  seen  and  felt  on  Canoe,  and 
the  people  rejoiced  to  see  it,  and  thanked  God  for  it. 
Old  Uncle  Nathan  Arrowood,  born  on  the  head  of  the 
Swannanoa,  North  Carolina,  some  eighty-four  years  ago, 
an  old  settler  here,  and  Baptist  preacher,  was  present, 


134  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

and  made  an  earnest  exhortation,  and  thanked  God  he 
had  Hved  to  see  that  glad  day. 

Dr.  Saunders  had  come  down  from  his  mission  at 
Gross',  some  fifteen  miles  up  the  river,  and  preached 
better,  I  think,  than  he  ever  did  at  his  old  church,  at 
Springfield.  Mrs.  Emma  Gordon,  Miss  Louise  Saund- 
ers and  Miss  Eliza  Gordon,  from  the  upper  missions  at 
Crockettsville  and  Squabble  Creek,  came  down  to  see 
and  to  help ;  and  Stuart  Crockett,  from  Frozen  Creek, 
also  lent  a  helping  hand.  No  wonder  they  came.  It 
was  good  to  be  there.  Nothing  on  earth  has  the  draw- 
ing power  of  the  Man  on  the  Cross,  when  he  is  "lifted 
up."  Every  other  attraction  fades  away  when  the  Sun 
of  righteousness  arises  on  the  soul,  with  the  glory  of 
heaven.  He  rose  over  the  gloomy  hills  of  Canoe  that 
day,  and  will  never  set  in  all  the  eternity  of  some  humble 
lives,  who  saw  that  "Great  Light"  for  the  first  time. 

It  is  due  to  say,  that  half  the  number,  or  more,  owe 
their  conversion  to  the  faithful  instruction  of  the  noble 
women  who  had  been  teaching  the  mission  school.  Con- 
stellations of  stars  will  form  tiaras  of  undying  glory  for 
their  brows  in  heaven.  Dr.  Guerrant  could  stay  only 
one  week,  but  Dr.  Saunders  and  Mr.  Moore  continued 
the  meeting  over  Sabbath,  and  received  seventeen  more 
members,  by  baptism. 

The  people  determined  to  build  a  church,  if  possible, 
and  raised  a  subscription  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars for  the  purpose.  They  elected  Messrs.  Robert 
Davidson,  Samuel  Callahan,  Ned  Turner  and  Granville 
Spicer  a  committee  to  build  the  church,  the  first  in  the 
land. 

This  is  one  of  three  missions  established  and  supported 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    135 

by  the  Society  of  Soul  Winners  in  this  section  of  the 
Cumberland  Mountains.  Some  three  hundred  children, 
and  many  of  their  parents,  are  being  taught  the  saving 
truths  of  the  Gospel,  by  six  faithful  women. 

Dr.  Miles  Saunders  has  charge  of  this  field,  and  is 
being  greatly  blessed  in  his  work.  Over  one  hundred 
souls  have  been  added  to  the  church  in  the  last  two 
months,  and  this  is  only  one  field  occupied  among  hun- 
dreds that  are  as  vacant  and  as  promising  as  this  was. 

The  Society  has  some  twenty-five  such  mission 
schools,  but  that  is  "only  a  drop  in  the  bucket."  There 
ought  to  be  hundreds  and  thousands. 

"Pray  ye,  therefore,  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that  He 
will  send  forth  laborers  into  the  harvest." 

And  prove  the  sincerity  of  your  prayers  by  your  gifts 
to  this  great  and  blessed  work. 

When  a  child  I  heard  the  people  sing  (and  doubtless 
my  mother  among  them) : 

"O'er  the  gloomy  hills  of  darkness 
Look  my  soul,  be  still  and  gaze, 
All  the  promises  do  travail 
With  a  glorious  day  of  grace ! 
Blessed  jubilee! 
Let  thy  glorious  morning  dawn !" 

I  did  not  know  what  that  meant  then ;  I  know  better 
now,  since  I  saw  the  dawning  of  that  glorious  morning 
on  the  Canoe.     And  I  think  I  can  more  sincerely  say: 

"Fly  abroad,  thou  mighty  Gospel, 
Win  and  conquer — never  cease; 
May  tliy  lasting  wide  dominion 
Multiply  and  still  increase! 
Sway  thy  scepter, 
Savior,  all  the  world  around." 


136  Galax  Gatherers^  and 


DEDICATION  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE 

CANOE. 

A  little  more  than  a  year  ago,  two  mission  teachers 
(of  the  Society  of  Soul  Winners),  opened  a  Bible  school 
on  the  Canoe,  a  little  branch  of  the  Upper  Fork  of  the 
Kentucky  River.  These  were  Mrs.  Kate  Robards,  of 
Wilmore,  Kentucky,  and  Mrs.  Mattie  Stewart,  of 
Florida.  They  were  afterwards  assisted  by  Miss  Mary 
Scrogin,  of  Versailles,  Kentucky. 

During  the  summer.  Dr.  Guerrant  visited  that  section 
of  the  mountains  and  preached  a  week  under  a  large 
tent.  Some  fifty  persons  confessed  Christ  and  were  bap- 
tized. Rev.  Dr.  Miles  Saunders  and  Mr.  Elias  Moore 
were  present  and  rendered  valuable  assistance. 

The  mission  school  suspended  during  the  winter  for 
want  of  a  place  to  teach  it.  There  was  no  church  in  the 
country,  and  no  school-house  that  could  be  warmed. 

When  in  New  York,  last  winter.  Dr.  Guerrant  re- 
ceived a  promise  from  Rev.  Harvey  Murdoch's  Sunday 
school  to  help  build  a  church  on  the  Canoe.  That  prom- 
ise was  faithfully  kept,  and  the  self-denying  children  of 
that  noble  church  sent  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to 
help  build  the  church. 

The  work  was  begun  in  April,  and  the  church  finished 
on  July  27th.  Mr.  Murdoch  came  on  from  New  York 
to  attend  the  dedication. 

After  a  few  days'  rest  at  Wilmore,  we  started  to  the 
Canoe.  A  hundred  miles  by  rail  brought  us  to  Elka- 
tawa,  where  we  were  met  by  Mr.  Addison  Talbott,  of 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    137 

Versailles,  Kentucky,  another  Soul  Winner  employed  on 
the  Canoe. 

A  horse,  a  mule  and  a  road-wagon  conveyed  us  over 
the  mountain,  eleven  miles  to  the  Canoe.  It  was  very 
hot  and  dry,  and  all  signs  of  rain  seemed  to  fail.  A 
large,  live  snake  was  hung  by  its  tail  over  the  road  in 
a  vain  eflfort  to  make  it  rain.  Not  believing  in  such 
signs  or  snakes,  Dr.  Guerrant  killed  the  snake  and  took 
the  chances. 

Evening  brought  us  to  the  Canoe.  To  our  surprise 
and  delight,  we  found  a  beautiful  church  (24  by  40  feet) 
standing  where  the  tent  stood  a  year  ago,  the  first  church 
in  that  land,  and  the  only  one  many  there  had  ever 
seen.  It  was  nicely  painted  white  without,  and  beau- 
tifully papered  within.  Comfortable  pews  and  a  neat 
pulpit,  beautiful  flowers,  and  a  crowd  of  happy  children 
furnished  it. 

They  had  been  singing  since  2  o'clock,  waiting  for 
our  coming,  at  five.  The  larger  part  of  the  credit  for 
the  building  belongs  to  Mr.  Talbott  and  Miss  Alida 
Beyer,  of  Brooklyn,  New  York,  who  gave  up  her  posi- 
tion as  city  missionary,  and  came  to  the  Canoe  in  May 
to  teach  the  children  of  the  mountains.  They  worked 
with  their  own  hands,  assisting  the  carpenters  to  finish 
the  church  for  the  dedication. 

Sunday,  the  28th  of  July,  was  a  beautiful  day.  The 
mountains  of  foliage  tempered  the  sunshine  and  cooled 
the  atmosphere. 

The  crowds,  mostly  on  foot,  gathered  by  8  o'clock, 
and  by  9  A.  M.  the  house  was  crowded.  Scores  of 
children  were  glad  to  find  scats  on  the  pulpit  platform. 

They  had  never  seen  the  like  before.     By  invitation, 


138  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

Mr.    Murdoch   preached   the   dedication    sermon,   from 
Joshua  xxiv,   15,  and  a  most  appropriate  discourse. 

After  the  sermon,  some  fifty  persons  came  forward 
to  profess  their  faith  in  Christ,  many  of  them  for  the 
first  time.  A  subscription  was  made  of  over  thirty  dol- 
lars, to  pay  a  balance  due  on  the  church  building-.  The 
church  was  then  solemnly  dedicated  to  the  service  of 
God. 

It  was  the  greatest  event  in  the  lives  of  these  poor 
people,  or  in  the  history  of  the  covmtry. 

This  is  the  work  of  the  Society  of  Soul  Winners  in 
one  year,  sustained  by  the  gifts,  and  encouraged  by  the 
prayers,  of  many  of  God's  generous  children  all  over 
the  land. 

This  neat,  comfortable  and  substantial  church,  which 
seats  two  hundred  and  fifty  people,  was  built  at  a  cost 
not  exceeding  $350.00,  and  finished  in  three  months' 
time,  though  the  lumber  had  to  be  brought  eight  miles. 
The  Society  is  engaged  in  building  three  other 
churches  in  these  mountains,  but  what  are  three  to  so 
many  hundreds  of  churchless  places,  and  so  many  thou- 
sands of  Christless  people? 

Mr.  Murdoch  and  Dr.  Guerrant  held  services  two 
days  more,  at  8  A.  M.  and  4  P.  M.,  and  on  Tuesday 
evening  baptized  six  persons,  one  a  man  who  had  kept 
X  saloon. 

On  Wednesday,  they  went  to  Turner's  Creek,  where 
Dr.  Saunders  was  holding  services  under  a  tent,  the  first 
and  only  church  here,  in  a  hundred  years. 

Crowds  came  on  foot  to  hear  the  Gospel,  and  many 
have  already  accepted  Christ.  Inspired  with  new  life 
and  hope,  they,  too,  have  set  to  work  to  build  a  log 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    139 

church,  having  no  help,  and  being  too  poor  to  buy  even 
rough  plank.  Dr.  Saunders  promises  to  have  it  done 
by  September. 

Dr.  Saunders  and  Mr.  Murdoch  went  on  to  Crocketts- 
ville,  where  Miss  Mary  McCorkle  Wilson  is  teaching  a 
mission  in  the  church  built  there  last  summer. 

Dr.  Guerrant  went  by  Lick  Branch,  a  wild,  poor  coun- 
try, where  Miss  Margaret  Sinclair  is  teaching  a  mission 
of  over  sixty  children,  and  their  parents.  He  preached 
once  in  the  school-house,  and  the  first  one  to  accept 
Christ  was  the  oldest  man  in  the  house ;  and  many  others 
followed  him.  Dr.  Guerrant  baptized  him  and  his  daugh- 
ter the  next  morning. 

There  is  no  church  in  this  part  of  the  country,  but 
Mr.  Adams,  a  native  teacher,  is  employed  by  the  Society 
of  Soul  Winners  to  hold  services  in  the  little  school- 
house.  He  is  a  good  man,  though,  like  all  the  rest,  he 
is  very  poor.  Nothing  seems  to  flourish  here  but  crowds 
of  bright,  bare-footed  children. 

There  was  a  large  attendance  at  Crcokettsville  Church, 
overcrowded  sometimes  at  8  A.  M.  and  4  P.  M.,  and  Dr. 
Saunders  and  Mr.  Murdoch  and  Dr.  Guerrant  all 
preached  every  day  for  three  days. 

A  few  years  ago  there  was  no  church  in  this  country, 
and  hardly  a  professing  Christian ;  now  there  is  a  beau- 
tiful church  building,  and  nearly  every  one  a  member  of 
the  church. 

Mr.  Murdoch  returned  to  Canoe  ,and  preached  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  Dr.  Guerrant  preached  at  Crockettsville, 
where  eight  adults  and  ten  infants  were  baptized  by  Dr. 
Saunders.     The  church  could  not  hold  the  people.     At 


140  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

Canoe,  Mr.  Murdoch  baptized  seven  more  on  profession 
of  faith. 

The  Society  has  now  six  promising  missions  in  this 
field,  taught  by  Mrs.  Saunders,  Mrs.  Gordon  and  Misses 
Wilson,  Beyer,  Sinclair  and  Pollei,  aided  by  Dr.  Saund- 
ers and  Mr.  Talbott. 

There  are  no  other  missions  or  churches  in  this 
region,  or  beyond  it,  for  many  desolate  miles.  Have  you 
a  part  in  this  great  work?  If  so,  rejoice  and  thank  God. 
If  not,  help  save  your  countrymen,  and  be  saved  in  so 
doing. 


ON  THE  CANOE. 

A  brief  account  of  a  visit  to  this  mountain  stream  may 
not  be  uninteresting  to  some  of  our  readers.  I  had  to 
go,  though  I  hardly  had  the  time  or  inclination  for  such 
a  trip.  But  duty  knows  no  "convenient  season,"  and 
Miss  Withers,  the  faithful  mission  teacher,  needed  help, 
so  I  started  the  hundred  miles  into  the  mountains.  A 
railroad  wreck  left  me  at  the  forks  of  the  Kentucky 
River  at  dark,  and  no  conveyance  to  bed  or  supper.  So 
with  some  raftsmen  I  crossed  the  river  in  a  little  canoe 
and  walked  a  mile  and  a  half  to  "Old  Canaan"  (now 
fashionably  called  St.  Helens).  A  clever  man  gave  me 
a  cold  supper,  and  a  warm  feather  bed.  The  early  train 
took  me  to  Torrent,  the  great  rock-house-amphitheatre 
which  God  built,  big  enough  to  hold  a  congregation  of 
ten  thousand.  Here  I  hoped  to  meet  Miss  Houston, 
from  North  Carolina,  but  she  had  just  gone  to  Okla- 
homa, on  the  clififs  of  the  Red  River,  where  she  con- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     141 

ducted  a  mission  so  successfully  last  year.  Her  health 
compelled  her  to  seek  a  lower  country,  but  the  people 
persuaded  her  to  come  back.  Noon  brought  me  to  Elka- 
tawa,  where  I  met  our  good  helper,  Mr.  Evan  Evans, 
who  had  just  returned  from  his  mother's  burial  in  New 
York.  He  said  there  were  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  at  prayer-meeting,  this  week,  at  Kessler  Chapel.  A 
mountain-climbing  horse  carried  me  ten  miles  to  the 
Canoe,  most  of  the  way,  up  rushing  Cane  Creek,  which 
overflowed  the  whole  road,  after  a  flood  last  night.  I 
forded  it  lengthwise.  The  river  rose  sixteen  feet,  and 
swept  away  tens  of  thousand  of  logs  and  ties,  the  product 
of  months  of  toil  by  the  mountain  men.  I  pity  them. 
Night  brought  me  to  a  little  cabin  on  the  Canoe,  where 
Miss  Withers,  a  noble  daughter  of  Virginia,  keeps  one 
cat,  one  dog  and  one  hen.  By  dint  of  pluck  and  perse- 
verance she  made  it  clean  and  pretty,  with  wall-paper 
and  a  broom.  Like  the  toad,  its  jewel  was  inside,  for 
it  was  homely  enough  outside.  In  her  absence,  I  ex- 
amined the  garden,  two  feet  wide,  in  the  corner  of  the 
yard,  planted  in  radishes,  lettuce,  etc.,  above  the  reach 
of  the  creek.  A  providential  storm  had  blown  a  big 
sycamore  across  the  swollen  stream  just  where  she 
needed  it,  to  enable  her  to  cross  to  the  chapel,  without 
wading.  People  in  the  lowlands  fail  to  see  such  bless- 
ings in  disguise,  and  miss  the  grandeur  and  inspiration 
of  these  mountains.  I  found  Miss  Withers  knew  how 
to  cook  as  well  as  teach  and  write  books,  for  she  gave 
me  two  nice  meals.  Such  things  belong  to  a  finished 
education,  though  some  women  never  find  it  out.  Sun- 
day morning  was  as  gloomy  and  foreboding  as  Satan 
could  have  wished,  but  God  held  up  the  rain  and  filled 


14S  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

the  church  with  a  most  respectful  and  attentive  congre- 
gation, who  walked  and  waded  to  the  house  of  God. 
She  taught  the  whole  Sabbath  school  alone,  for  want  of 
a  helper,  though  it  was  filled  with  children  from  five  to 
fifty  years  of  age.  And  some  people  think  their  high- 
land neighbors  need  no  help.  In  the  afternoon  she 
walked  several  miles  down  the  river  to  teach  another 
Sabbath  school  at  the  Beech  Grove,  and  I  had  to  meet 
an  appointment  at  Turner's  Creek  at  3  P.  M.  To  avoid 
the  swollen  river  and  a  landslide,  I  took  a  nearer  road 
over  the  mountain.  It  was  my  first  (and  last)  trip  by 
this  way.  I  cannot  describe  it,  in  three  languages.  The 
entrance  to  the  mountain  path,  like  the  way  of  life,  was 
so  straight  and  narrow  I  missed  it,  until  turned  back 
by  a  friendly  mountaineer.  The  so-called  road  was  a 
rocky  torrent,  four  feet  wide  at  its  mouth,  and  it  filled 
all  the  valley  between  the  mountains.  It  narrowed  to 
two  feet  half  way  up,  and  finally  disappeared  entirely  in 
an  abrupt  ascent  to  the  top.  Riding  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  walking  nearly  as  doubtful.  I  had  a  trained 
mountain  horse,  with  prehensible  feet,  like  a  goat,  and 
he  was  exhausted  when  he  reached  the  top.  But  the 
wilderness  and  mountains  repaid  the  toil  and  labor.  Not 
even  the  song  of  a  wild  bird  broke  the  awful  stillness 
of  this  primeval  forest.  Only  God  could  be  seen  and 
heard.  I  pity  the  denizens  of  the  cities  who  never  get 
so  near  to  Nature,  and  Nature's  God.  But  if  the  ascent 
was  hard  to  make,  or  describe,  the  descent  was  unspeak- 
able. It  was  dangerous  even  to  lead  a  horse  down  the 
great  masses  of  rocks  almost  perpendicular,  with  only  a 
foct-hold  occasionallv,  for  man  or  beast.  Chenowee 
sfrM  Pike's  Peak  wene  easy  tb  it.     I  never  wish  my  eniemy 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    143 

placed  in  such  distress  and  danger.  I  reached  "Tabby 
John"  Turner's,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  ahve  and 
thankful.  In  the  little  log-cabin  by  Gordon  Chapel  I 
found  the  faithful  missionaries,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burville, 
who  gave  me  a  dinner  and  a  good  congregation,  that 
came  conveniently  at  2  P.  M.,  instead  of  3  P.  M.  They 
have  a  difficult  field,  but  I  found  to-day,  and  long  ago, 
that  "Jordan  is  a  hard  road  to  travel,"  but  it  leads  to  the 
land  of  perpetual  milk  and  honey.  I  was  impressed  with 
their  diligence  in  business,  when  he  announced  services 
of  song  and  prayer,  Bible  study,  and  cottage  prayer- 
meetings,  etc.,  for  nearly  every  night  in  the  week,  regu- 
larly, though  this  is  the  busy  season,  when  everything 
that  can  lift  a  hoe  is  at  work  on  the  mountains.  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Saunders  and  Mrs.  Gordon,  who  started  this 
mission,  left  a  fragrant  memory  here,  and  God  is  re- 
warding them.  As  I  had  seventeen  miles  to  travel  and 
two  mountains  to  cross,  this  evening,  I  concluded  to 
return  by  another  way  than  the  big  mountain.  The  road 
was  not  so  steep,  but  almost  as  rough.  Night  found  mc 
on  the  Puncheon  Camp,  after  a  hard  ride  through  the 
mud  and  water.  "Proctor  Bill"  met  me  at  the  big 
Indian  Rock,  and  piloted  me  to  Puncheon  Camp,  where 
I  found  Miss  Sights  installed  as  teacher,  to  the  delight 
of  everybody  on  the  creek.  The  busy  Highlanders  had 
cut  one  hundred  and  twenty  logs  for  the  college,  on  the 
mountain  tops,  and  dragged  them  down  to  the  valley. 
They  had  already  put  up  a  little  cottage  for  the  teachers, 
and  covered  it  witli  the  remnant  of  my  big  tent  which 
the  storm  had  destroyed.  Here  Mr.  Evans  had  preached 
yesterday  in  the  second  church  on  Puncheon  Camp,  to 
a  good  congregation.      The  first  was  the  tent,  by  two 


144  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

weeks.  All  were  delighted  and  enthusiastic  over  the 
prospect  of  having  a  school  and  church,  after  waiting  a 
hundred  years.     May  God  reward  all  who  help  them. 


FROM  THE  "REGIONS  BEYOND." 

It  was  dark  when  I  reached  the  new  church,  on  the 
Middle  Fork  of  the  Kentucky  River,  and  Brother  John 
Baker  DeVault  was  preaching  a  good  sermon  to  an 
attractive  little  congregation,  seated  on  rough  boards. 

I  thank  God  for  what  my  eyes  beheld,  the  first  church 
building  on  a  river  over  one  hundred  miles  long,  in  a 
county  settled  over  one  hundred  years  ago. 

One  year  ago,  there  was  but  one  Presbyterian  on  this 
river.  Now  this  church  numbers  one  hundred  and 
seventeen  members.  One  year  ago  I  organized  this 
church,  out  of  doors,  for  want  of  a  better  place.  Now 
we  are  worshipping  in  a  large,  comfortable  and  substan- 
tial frame  building,  capable  of  seating  three  hundred 
people.  Though  yet  unfinished,  it  afforded  comfortable 
quarters  for  our  meeting.  The  church  is  built  in  Elder 
Jesse  Spicer's  front  yard,  donated  by  this  liberal  servant 
of  God,  besides  a  generous  sum  of  money.  It  stands  on 
a  beautiful  eminence,  a  high  promontory,  overlooking  a 
great  bend  in  the  river,  and  in  the  center  of  a  large  popu- 
lation. The  lumber  used  in  the  construction  was 
brought  on  push-boats  some  forty  miles,  because  there 
are  no  saw-mills  on  this  river,  except  the  ancient  whip- 
saw,  run  by  two  strong  men.  This  church  owes  much 
to  dear  Brother  William  B.  Cooper  and  his  faithful  co- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    145 

worker,  James   M.   Little,  who   supply  this  field  with 
preaching. 

The  morrow  was  the  Sabbath,  and  a  great  congre- 
gation filled  the  church,  many  coming  as  far  as  ten  or 
fifteen  miles,  over  mountain  roads.  Five  persons,  all 
adults,  joined  the  church  after  the  sermon,  on  profession 
of  faith.  The  services  were  continued  until  Thursday 
morning.  Brothers  Cooper  and  DeVault  rendering  val- 
uable assistance. 

On  Monday  we  had  a  big  rain-storm.  As  half  the 
top  of  the  church  was  uneovered,  and  no  windows,  nor 
doors,  the  congregation  got  a  good  wetting.  But  they 
stood  their  ground  bravely  and  took  the  rain  rather  than 
miss  the  service.  God  blesses  such  people.  Brother 
Cooper  held  an  umbrella  over  me  while  I  preached.  At 
the  close  of  the  service  three  persons  came  forward  and 
accepted  Christ,  one  an  old  man  of  seventy  years.  As 
the  nights  were  so  dark  and  the  roads  dangerously  bad 
in  places  we  held  two  services  by  daylight,  at  lo  A.  M. 
and  4  P.  M.  A  great  majority  of  the  people  walked, 
many  of  them  several  miles,  and  most  of  them  attended 
both  services.  All  business,  except  the  greatest  busi- 
ness, was  suspended,  and  the  people  came  to  hear  and 
believe  God.  God  honored  their  faith  and  devotion,  and 
gave  them  a  great  blessing. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  after  the  service,  twenty- 
three  persons  came  forward  to  accept  Christ,  many  of 
them  aged  people,  twenty  of  whom  I  baptized,  having 
never  before  belonged  to  any  church.  It  was  a  rich 
compensation  of  God's  love  and  mercy  bestowed  on  His 
poor  mountain  children,  who  had  so  faithfully  worked 
for  His  glory.     That  day  repaid  amply  all  they  had  done 


146  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

and  suffered  in  His  blessed  cause.  Oh,  that  God  would 
visit  His  older  and  richer  churches  with  a  portion  of 
their  zeal  and  their  reward! 

At  the  evening  service,  nine  more  united  with  the 
church,  making  thirty-two  on  that  day.  Engagements 
at  Jackson  compelled  me  to  leave  on  Thursday  morn- 
ing, greatly  to  my  regret.  Fifty-six  persons,  almost 
all  adults,  had  united  with  the  church  since  Sunday,  in 
four  days.     To  God  be  all  the  glory. 

On  our  way  to  Jackson,  Thursday  morning,  at  the 
urgent  request  of  the  people,  we  stopped  and  preached 
at  9  o'clock,  in  the  little  vacant  log-house  of  "Buck  Eye 
Bill  Gabbard,"  on  the  head  of  the  Puncheon  Camp 
Creek.  The  house  was  literally  packed,  inside  and  out- 
side, most  of  the  men  standing  around  the  door. 

After  the  sermon,  eighteen  persons,  some  of  them 
aged  people,  and  some  of  them  bright  children,  came 
forward  to  profess  their  faith  in  Christ,  most  of  whom 
were  there  baptized  and  added  to  the  Middle  Fork 
Church.  This  extraordinary  result  was  due  largely  to 
the  faithful  efforts  of  the  poor  and  humble  mountain 
boy,  Lewis  G.  Hensley,  who,  for  nearly  a  year,  has,  al- 
most unaided,  conducted  a  Sabbath  school  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, teaching  sometimes  one  hundred  pupils,  many 
of  them  how  to  read,  all  of  them  how  to  love  and  serve 
God.  These  additions  gave  the  church  at  Middle  Fork 
one  hundred  and  ninety  members  before  it  is  a  year  old. 

Truly,  God's  arm  is  not  shortened,  nor  his  ear  heavy. 
His  word  is  still  true.  "Every  one  that  asketh  receiv- 
eth."  These  people  believe  God  and  "all  things  are 
possible  to  him  that  believeth."  It  is  a  good  church, 
composed  of  the  best  people  in  the  country,  who  love 


Old  School  House  at  Puncheon  Camp 


New  School  House  at  Puncheon  Camp 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    147 

their  church  "and  show  their  faith  by  their  works." 
Their  elder  rode  about  one  hundred  miles,  on  horse- 
back, to  represent  his  church  in  the  last  meeting  of  Pres- 
bytery, while  some  could  not  come  twenty  miles  on  the 
cars. 

This  church  at  Jackson  is  Brother  Little's  home 
church,  and  is  a  noble  tribute  to  God's  liberal  children 
throughout  Kentucky,  who  have  contributed  to  its  erec- 
tion. It  is  the  first  church  building  of  any  kind  ever 
erected  in  this  old  county  seat,  and  the  first  frame  church 
ever  built  in  this  large  and  populous  country.  We  or- 
ganized this  church  two  years  ago,  in  the  old  court- 
house. We  began  without  a  single  member ;  the  church 
has  now  over  one  hundred  members.  Then  there  were 
only  two  or  three  Presbyterians  in  the  county ;  now 
there  are  nearly  four  hundred,  with  two  large  churches 
already  built  and  work  begun  on  the  third. 


PUNCHEON  CAMP. 

Jesus  made  many  humble  names  immortal.  I  was 
present  when  he  touched  Puncheon  Camp  and  eternal- 
ized this  little  mountain  stream,  in  the  annals  of  heaven. 
It  was  on  this  wise: 

Once  on  a  preaching  tour  through  the  mountains,  an 
humble,  unlettered  young  man  joined  the  church. 
Among  a  hundred  others,  he  made  no  impression  on 
me  unless  it  was  by  his  homeliness.  He  was  so  ill- 
favored  that  one  would  not  forget  him,  though  that 
would  not  recommend  him  to  a  very  favorable  considera- 
tion.    On  a  subsequent  visit  he  met  me  at  the  church  on 


148  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

the  Middle  Fork  of  the  Kentucky  River,  and  urged  me 
to  visit  his  Sunday  school  on  Puncheon  Camp.  I  was 
astonished  that  he  had  a  Sunday  school  anywhere,  espe- 
cially on  Puncheon  Camp. 

It  was  several  miles  from  where  he  worked  (as  a  hired 
hand),  among  a  sparsely-settled  people,  in  a  narrow  val- 
ley between  big  mountains.  I  had  no  time  to  spare  to 
visit  his  school,  but  he  urged  so  persistently  I  promised 
to  stop  on  the  Puncheon  Camp  Creek  at  9  o'clock  Thurs- 
day morning  on  my  way  to  Jackson,  and  preach  to  his 
Sunday  school.  I  could  hardly  believe  that  a  Sunday 
school  could  be  gathered  at  9  o'clock  on  a  week  day,  out 
of  those  wild,  rough  mountains.  I  did  not  know  the 
man.  It  was  blazing  hot ;  I  came  near  having  a  sun- 
stroke as  I  crossed  the  mountain  at  the  head  of  the 
Puncheon  Camp,  though  I  started  early.  By  9  o'clock 
I  came  in  sight  of  the  old  deserted  Gabbard  house,  where 
the  Sunday  school  was  taught.  There  was  no  other 
place  to  teach  on  that  mountain  creek.  Imagine  my 
astonishment,  when  I  saw  an  anxious  crowd  of  men, 
women  and  children  filling  the  house,  porch  and  yard  at 
9  o'clock  in  the  morning.  They  had  climbed  the  moun- 
tains and  crossed  the  streams,  on  foot,  to  hear  the 
Gospel. 

My  friend  was  there,  and  made  a  place  big  enough 
for  me  to  stand,  in  a  crowd  that  filled  every  inch  of 
space  both  inside  and  outside  the  house.  His  equip- 
ment for  Sabbath  school  consisted  of  one  small  copy 
of  Gospel  Hymns  (words  only),  and  a  small  ten-cent 
Testament.  Out  of  these  he  taught  the  Puncheon 
campers  to  sing,  and  love  Jesus.  He  led  the  singing 
and  I  preached.      It  was  no  trouble.     A  man  couldn't 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    149 

help  preaching  there  and  then.  A  hundred  eager,  earn- 
est people  sitting  on  the  floor  and  porches  of  a  mountain 
cabin  would  make  the  dumb  speak,  and  the  stones  cry 
out,  if  others  were  silent. 

The  poor,  untutored  lad  who  had  spelled  out  the 
story  of  Jesus'  love  to  the  simple  mountain  folk  had 
sowed  the  seed  of  the  Kingdom,  I  watered  it, 
and  God  "gave  the  increase."  I  don't  remember 
the  sermon,  but  I  do  remember  that  when  I  was  done, 
eighteen  souls,  some  well  stricken  in  years,  some 
in  the  dew  of  youth,  came  forward  to  say  they 
believed  in  Jesus,  and  rejoiced  in  the  new-found  hope 
of  everlasting  life.  It  was  not  far  from  there  to  heaven 
that  day,  for  God  makes  heaven,  and  He  was  there.  His 
finger  touched  their  eyes,  and  they  wept  tears  of  peni- 
tential grief ;  touched  their  hearts,  and  they  opened  them 
to  the  footsteps  of  the  King ;  touched  their  lips,  and  they 
"rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of  glory."  Jesus 
immortalized  Puncheon  Camp  with  His  presence  that 
day,  and  enrolled  its  name  among  the  trophies  of  His 
grace.  The  humble  name  of  Lewis  Hensley  may  never 
pass  the  horizon  of  his  mountain  home,  but  it  is  known 
and  honored  in  heaven,  and  will  outlast  and  outshine  the 
names  of  all  earth's  conquerors,  who  never  knew  and 
loved  the  lowly  Nazarcnc.    He  was  a  Soul  Winner. 

"Are  you  allured  by  peace  and  velvet  ease? 
The  choice  is  yours  to  seek  them,  if  you  please. 
Then  tempt  me  not,  while  these,  my  brother  men. 
Crawl  up  the  stairs  of  pain  on  bleeding  knees." 


150  Galax  Gatherers,  and 


TWENTY  YEARS  AFTER. 

I  made  my  second  trip  to  Puncheon  Camp  last  Sun- 
day. The  old  people  had  most  all  crossed  the  River  of 
Death,  and  the  children  were  grown  and  married.  Only 
the  beautiful  green  mountains  and  the  glassy  stream 
remained  the  same.  Those  living  remembered  me  well, 
and  received  me  with  a  characteristic  Highland  welcome. 
There  was  no  school-house  or  church  yet  on  this  creek, 
though  twenty  years  had  passed  away.  I  stopped  at  Mr. 
Breck  Herald's  for  dinner.  Twelve  handsome  children 
blessed  his  home,  and  had  not  placed  a  wrinkle  on  the 
gentle  mother's  face.  The  youngest  was  burdened  with  my 
hard  name,  but  seemed  as  happy  as  the  rest.  They  begged 
for  a  chapel  and  a  school.  They  never  had  one,  and  no 
one  to  help  build  it.  Mr.  Herald  offered  to  give  an  acre 
or  two  of  his  little  meadow  and  a  hundred  dollars  to 
build  the  chapel,  and  board  the  teacher  free,  and  give  up 
the  best  room  in  his  house  for  the  school.  The  neigh- 
bors were  as  anxious  as  he  for  help.  By  God's  help 
they  shall  have  the  chapel  and  school-house  before  the 
snow  falls,  and  a  teacher  before  harvest. 

Soon  after  dinner,  with  little  Mary  Hamlin  behind  me, 
and  "Proctor  Bill"  for  guide,  we  went  up  the  Puncheon 
Camp,  by  Mr.  Gabbard's,  where  I  preached  twenty  years 
ago.  He  was  alive  and  grateful  and  paralyzed.  He  de- 
serves a  better  home,  and  will  soon  get  it. 

We  then  crossed  the  Chenowee  Mountain.  Mr.  Little 
forewarned  me,  it  was  a  rough  one,  and  that  means  un- 
speakable to  lowlanders.    My  vocabulary  is  not  equal  to 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    151 

Chenowee.  By  hard  holding  and  pulling  we  managed  to 
climb  to  the  top  of  the  pass,  but  nothing  availed  us  in 
coming  down.  Even  "Proctor  Bill"  gave  it  up,  and 
horses  and  all  slid  down,  over  rocks  and  steps,  and  gullies 
and  ravines,  to  the  little  school-house  of  Chenowee  at 
the  foot.  I  once  rode  a  mule  to  the  top  of  Pike's  Peak, 
and  had  a  better  road  than  down  Chenowee. 

We  found  the  school-house  full  of  serious  men  and 
women  and  bright,  pretty  children.  Their  eyes  and  faces 
were  fresh  and  bright  and  comely,  painted  by  the  pure 
mountain  air,  and  water,  and  sunshine. 

Our  faithful  mission  teacher,  Miss  Emma  Withers, 
had  walked  three  miles  from  Elkatawa,  after  teaching 
her  own  Sabbath  school.  Miss  Mary  Robertson,  just 
arrived  from  Paris,  Texas,  came  with  her,  and  helped 
"Proctor  Bill"  lead  the  singing.  I  preached  the  best  I 
could,  and  they  listened  better,  for  it  was  newer  to  them 
than  it  was  to  me. 

They  were  glad  to  know  that  they  were  to  have  a  Sab- 
bath school,  and  such  a  fine  teacher  as  Miss  Mary 
Robertson.  She  began  her  school  Monday  morning. 
For  the  present,  she  will  teach  only  till  noon,  so  the 
children  can  go  home  and  help  in  the  corn  crop,  their 
main  and  only  dependence  for  bread.  The  Chenowee 
School-house  is  in  a  Paradise  of  God's  planting,  of 
great  oaks,  and  beech  trees,  and  mountain  wild  flowers. 
Here  Mr.  Little  has  been  gathering  the  untutored  High- 
landers in  Sabbath  school  this  spring,  and  preaching  as 
he  had  opportunity.  It  was  a  privilege  and  pleasure  to 
help  him,  and  them  and  take  God  for  our  reward. 

I  am  glad  to  say  that  faithful  Lewis  Henslcy  is  still 


152  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

at  work  in  the  vineyard,  living  on  the  neighboring 
stream  of  Shoulder  Blade,  and  doing  what  he  can  for 
his  Master  and  His  lost  sheep  on  the  mountains.  Have 
you  a  part  in  this  glorious  work? 

"Shall  we  whose  souls  are  lighted 
With  wisdom  from  on  high, 
Shall  we  to  men  benighted 
The  lamp  of  life  deny? 
Salvation !    Oh,  Salvation ! 

The  joyful  sound  proclaim. 
Till  earth's  remotest  nation 
Has  learned  Messiah's  name!" 


"BLOODY  BREATHITT." 

The  recent  bloody  record  of  this  county  probably 
justifies  this  article.  When  a  soldier,  I  several  times 
crossed  this  county,  and  served  in  the  army  with  many 
of  its  sons.  For  twenty-five  years  I  have  travelled  all 
over  it,  preaching  the  Gospel,  and  have  some  knowledge 
of  its  people. 

Breathitt  is  a  large  county,  in  the  Kentucky  Cumber- 
lands,  lying  on  the  North  and  Middle  Forks  of  the 
Kentucky  River.  The  mountains  lie  en  masse,  and  not 
in  ranges  like  the  southern  mountains,  so  that  the  val- 
leys are  narrow  and  tortuous.  The  people  live  along 
these  narrow  vallevs.  The  onlv  cereal  raised  is  corn,  and 
not  enough  of  that  to  feed  the  15,000  people  who  live 
on  it.  The  lack  is  supplied  by  logging,  principally,  and 
digging  ginseng  and  other  medicinal  roots,  with  some 
stock  and  coal.     One  railroad,  the  Lexington  and  East- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    153 

ern,  reaches  Jackson,  the  county  seat,  some  one  hundred 
miles  from  the  Bkie  Grass  capital. 

When  I  first  visited  the  county  as  evangelist,  over 
twenty  years  ago  there  was  not  a  church  in  it  of  any  kind, 
and  not  a  regular  preacher.  I  preached  in  the  court- 
house at  Jackson,  and  organized  the  first  church  there. 

The  village  had  no  school-house,  and  no  house  of 
worship.  The  county  was  then  known  as  "Bloody 
Breathitt,"  on  account  of  deadly  feuds,  in  which,  it  is 
said,  over  a  hundred  men  had  been  killed.  There  had 
been  a  reign  of  terror  following  the  war ;  the  differences 
were  largely  political,  between  opposing  parties  during 
the  Civil  War.  The  State  of  Kentucky  sent  distin- 
guished judges,  under  escort  of  a  heavy  guard,  to  stop 
the  feud. 

The  Synod  of  Kentucky  pushed  its  work  of  preaching 
the  Gospel  of  peace,  organizing  and  building  churches, 
and  placing  educated  and  consecrated  ministers  in  the 
county  to  teach  the  people.  They  found  the  people 
ready  and  willing,  and  even  anxious  to  hear.  Six 
churches  were  organized  in  different  sections  of  the 
county,  large  congregations  gathered  and  houses  of  wor- 
ship built. 

A  different  order  of  things  started.  The  Synod  estab- 
lished an  institute  of  learning  at  Jackson,  which  has 
grown  to  be  one  of  the  largest  and  best  in  the  State, 
numbering  hundreds  of  students,  who  are  instructed  in 
every  branch  of  learning,  both  literary  and  mechanical. 

A  handsome,  new  brick  church  succeeded  the  frame 
one,  which  was  burned.  The  Methodist  brethren  built 
a  nice  frame  church,  and  the  Baptists,  a  brick,  and  the 
Christian  church  also. 


154  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

The  town  has  grown  in  the  twenty  years,  from  a 
village  of  some  two  hundred,  to  a  well  built  town  of 
nearly  two  thousand,  with  fine  brick  business  houses, 
court-house,  hotels  and  residences. 

Twenty  years  ago  I  rode  there  horseback,  over  some 
seventy-five  miles  of  bad  mountain  roads.  Now  three 
railroads  enter  the  town;  one  from  Lexington,  and  two 
from  neighboring  counties.  For  years,  after  the  ad- 
vent of  the  church,  the  county  was  among  the  most 
orderly,  peaceful  and  prosperous  in  the  State.  It  is  a 
local   option   county. 

One  may  ask  why  this  present  reign  of  terror,  with 
some  fifteen  men  killed  since  last  December?  The 
reply  is  not  so  easy  to  give.  First  of  all,  I  believe  it  is 
largely  due  to  the  illicit  selling  of  whiskey,  or  the  sale 
of  it  under  government  license.  Most  of  the  murders 
may  be  traced  to  this  prolific  source  of  crime.  Probably 
bad  feeling  over  political  differences  is  responsible  for 
part  of  the  trouble. 

The  mountain  people  are  largely  related  to  each  other 
by  blood  or  marriage.  Few  of  them  ever  emigrate. 
They  are  clannish,  like  most  Highlanders;  when  you 
strike  one,  you  strike  the  whole  family  and  connection, 
and  all  resent  it. 

The  law  is  slow  and  lax  in  its  administration,  and  so 
the  people  take  it  into  their  own  hands. 

There  is  some  excuse  for  this ;  but  the  crying  cause 
back  of  all  this  violence  and  bloodshed  is  the  want  of 
religion.  The  want  of  the  Gospel  of  peace  and  forgive- 
ness and  love. 

People  must  be  educated  to  value  human  life;  to 
obey   God's   laws;   to   live   peaceable   and   sober  lives. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    155 

This  is  what  some  of  God's  people  are  trying  to  do.  It 
is  a  big  undertaking,  and  cannot  be  accompHshed  at 
once.  A  people's  character  cannot  be  changed  like  their 
clothes.  This  is  the  humble  endeavor  of  the  Society 
of  Soul  Winners,  the  America  Inland  Mission.  This 
year  it  had  twenty-one  faithful  missionaries  at  work 
in  this  county  alone.  They  are  godly  ministers,  and 
consecrated  women  teaching  the  children  a  Gospel  of 
peace  and  good  will.  It  is  something  to  their  credit  that 
not  a  single  murder  has  been  committed  at  one  of  these 
missions,  or  in  their  neighborhood.  At  this  time  pro- 
tracted meetings  are  being  held  at  several  of  these  mis- 
sions, and  some  fifty  persons  have  publicly  confessed 
Christ  within  a  fortnight. 

The  Breathitt  people  are  not  heathen,  nor  barbarous. 
There  is  not,  in  all  my  knowledge,  a  kinder,  braver, 
gentler  people  naturally.  They  are  the  soul  of  hospi- 
tality. They  have  their  faults,  like  others,  and  are  too 
prone  to  fight  and  drink.  The  remedy  for  this  is  the 
Gospel,  the  only  sufficient  remedy  for  all  sin  and  all 
men. 

The  manifest  duty  of  all  Christians  is  to  remedy  this 
state  of  things,  by  sending  the  Gospel  to  these  neighbors. 

It  is  the  only  transforming  power  on  earth.  I  do 
not  undervalue  other  agencies,  as  schools,  colleges,  set- 
tlements, or  secular  societies.  They  are  all  good  in 
their  places,  but  are  powerless  when  men  are  to  be  trans- 
formed, and  society  regenerated. 

The  object  of  this  society  is  the  salvation  of  the  moun- 
tain people,  not  only  from  murder,  but  from  all  other 
sins  which  prevail  among  them.  It  is  a  disgrace  to 
them,  and  to  us  also,  if  we  do  not  help  them. 


156  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

There  is  money  enough  in  the  banks  of  the  State  to 
revolutionize  the  Cumberlands,  and  make  them  an 
orderly,  peaceable  and  God-fearing  people.  As  it  is, 
there  are  tens  of  thousands  of  them  who  never  saw  a 
church,  or  heard  a  Gospel  sermon  they  could  understand. 

It  is  a  blot  and  shame  on  the  good  name  of  our  be- 
loved country.     Let  us  remove  it. 

This  society  has  over  one  hundred  missionaries  at 
work  in  the  mountains,  and  most  all  their  support  comes 
from  God's  wise  and  liberal  children  all  over  the  world. 
These  faithful,  self-denying  men  and  women  are  not 
in  town  or  churches,  but  in  the  "regions  beyond,"  where 
thousands  are  perishing  in  their  sins. 

The  question  is  not,  can  they  be  saved  without  the 
Gospel,  but  can  we  be  saved  if  we  do  not  give  it  to 
them.     Jesus   answers   this   question   in    Mathew    xxv, 

34-46. 

On  which  hand   are  you? 


HIGHLAND   COLLEGE. 

This  is  the  new  college  on  the  Puncheon  Camp  >*ieam 
Breathitt  County,  Kentucky,  which  was  dedicated  to  the 
noble  object  of  Christian  education  the  fifteenth  of  July. 
A  great  crowd  of  the  Highlanders,  from  several  counties, 
assembled,  many,  doubtless,  to  see  and  hear  the  Governor 
of  Kentucky.  The  multitude  was  too  large  for  the  audi- 
torium of  the  college,  which  will  seat  three  hundred  or 
more,  so  that  the  exercises  were  held  in  the  large  and 
beautiful  campus.  Here  a  thousand  people  heard  noble  ad- 
dresses from  Mr.  Kash,  the  Commonwealth's  Attorney; 


'A 


<i 


as 
0 
y. 


O 
-J 


Sketches  of  the  American"  Highlanders.    157 

Mr.  Terry,  Professor  Leonard,  Rev.  Mr.  Derthick,  Drs. 
McCorkle,  Southgate  and  Tyler,  and  the  Governor  of 
Kentucky.  From  9  A.  M.  until  3  P.  M.  the  people  lis- 
tened with  great  pleasure  and  profit,  many  standing  up 
during  the  whole  day.  It  was  truly  a  jubilee,  the  first 
in  the  Highlands.  The  college  exercises  opened  on  the 
following  Monday,  with  Professor  Manning,  and  wife, 
Miss  Mary  Pauline  Abbott,  Misses  Ivy  and  ]\Iatilda 
Smith,  as  teachers,  all  trained  and  experienced  workers, 
from  as  many  States. 

Though  the  college  is  situated  in  the  midst  of  the 
Highlands,  nearly  ten  miles  from  any  town  or  village, 
surrounded  by  mountains,  where  there  was  neither 
church  or  school,  in  two  weeks  it  had  enrolled  ninety- 
one  pupils,  and  more  coming  every  day.  Some  of  the 
children  walk  four  miles,  and  are  there  by  7  A.  M.  We 
have  no  place  for  them  to  board,  or  the  attendance 
would  be  doubled.  Who  will  help  us  build  a  dormitory 
for  these  poor  children,  who  are  so  hungry  to  learn? 
There  is  no  such  opportunity  for  an  investment  in  any 
gold  mine  or  bank  stock.  God  pays  one  hundred  per 
cent,  and  more,  and  pays  it  forever. 


A  RED  LETTER  DAY  FOR  "BLOODY 
BREATHITT." 


REV.    DR.   EMMETT   W.    m'cORKLE. 


A  brighter  day  never  dawned  on  the  steep  slopes  of 
the  higher  Highlands   than  that  fixed   for  the   formal 


158  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

opening  of  the  Puncheon  Camp  School,  conceived  and 
completed  by  Dr.  Edward  O.  Guerrant,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  God's  good  people  everywhere.  This  school  is 
three  miles  from  Oakdale,  on  the  mountain  railroad,  in 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  portions  of  Breathitt  County. 
A  stream  of  silver  wound  its  way  along  the  narrow 
valley.  The  upper  slopes  were  green  and  beautiful,  with 
their  forest  hues.  In  the  emerald  mead  of  six  acres 
below,  stood  the  school  buildings,  all  pure  and  white, 
significant  of  the  character  which  it  hopes  to  make 
whiter  than  snow  through  the  teaching  of  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ.  If  you  can  imagine  rows  of  horses  and 
mules,  hitched  along  the  road,  and  hundreds  of  people 
gathered  near  the  stand  under  the  trees,  you  have  a 
faint  picture  of  the  scene  that  met  the  eye  of  the 
stranger  on  that  day. 

This  was  a  glad  day  for  all,  because  it  witnessed  the 
crowning  of  the  indefatigable  labors  of  those  faithful 
workers  with  God's  favor  and  blessing.  One  year  ago, 
the  leaves  were  on  the  trees  on  the  mountain-tops,  that 
now  constitute  this  building.  In  that  short  time  it  has 
been  completed  at  a  cost  of  more  than  four  thousand 
dollars,  and  without  a  cent  of  debt.  It  is  a  populous 
and  needy  section,  where  there  are  no  churches  nor 
schools. 

It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  such  an  occasion 
should  have  been  thought  worthy  of  a  visit  and  an  ad- 
dress from  the  Chief  Executive  of  the  State,  Governor 
Willson.  Or  that  a  great  number  of  friends,  as  well  as 
strangers  from  surrounding  counties,  and  even  from 
other  and  different  States,  should  have  been  present. 
We  saw  an  elder  of   the  Presbyterian   Church,   from 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    159 

§g  ■■-53 
Salt  Lake  City;  also  Rev.  Mr.  MacConagha,  the  prin- 
cipal of  the  new  school,  now  being  erected  by  the  United 
Presbyterian  Church,  at  Stanton,  in  Powell  County, 
Kentucky. 

Addresses  were  made  by  Governor  Willson,  Rev.  E. 
L.  Southgate,  of  the  M.  E,  Church;  Professor  Leonard, 
of  the  Lee's  Institute  of  Jackson,  Kentucky;  Rev.  J.  W. 
Tyler,  Rev.  E.  W.  McCorkle,  Dr.  Guerrant  and  others. 
These  touched  the  sore  need  of  education  for  the  people, 
with  the  benefits  to  be  derived  therefrom  by  the  coming 
generation,  as  well  as  the  necessity  for  loyal  and  enthu- 
siastic support  by  the  people. 

The  college  building,  which  stands  on  an  eminence  at 
the  rear  of  the  beautiful  grounds,  and  flanked  by  the 
two  buildings  for  the  teachers,  has  two  stories,  with 
four  large  rooms  below,  and  another  larger  room  above 
stairs.  The  rooms  are  equipped  with  modern  desks  and 
furniture.  The  room  above,  for  chapel  and  general 
assembly  purposes,  is  provided  with  an  organ,  maps, 
charts,  as  well  as  the  nucleus  of  a  small  library. 

The  whole  plant  is  in  charge  of  Professor  Manning, 
with  a  corps  of  three  assistants,  to  which  will  soon  be 
added  a  kindergarten  teacher. 

The  need  of  such  an  institution  may  be  realized,  when 
it  is  remembered  that  in  the  immediate  locality  there  are 
more  than  two  hundred  children  of  school  age.  There 
are  two  families  nearby  with  twelve  children  in  each. 
Such  an  institution  as  this  is  a  necessity,  otherwise  the 
people  will  be  almost  without  teaching,  and  especially 
that  of  a  Christian  character.  Their  handicaps  in  this 
way  are  being  removed,  and  they  are  allowed  to  have 
a  fair  chance  with  their  more  fortunate  contemporaries 


160  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

in  the  vital  work  of  house-building,  home-making,  and 
life-making.  The  Herald  family,  which  gave  the  land 
and  lumber,  have  been  in  that  community  since  the 
"thirties."  One  old  man  resides  on  the  same  spot  on 
which  he  settled  sixty-six  years  since. 

This  county  has  a  record  which  will  go  into  history. 
For  deeds  of  blood,  it  has  no  equal,  perhaps,  in  any  land ; 
but  a  new  day  seems  to  have  dawned.  The  people  have 
new  hopes,  and  are  enthused  with  the  prospect  for 
themselves,  but  especially  for  their  children,  and  are 
eager  for  schools,  by  which  their  children  may  be  helped 
to  higher  life  than  that  to  which  their  fathers  have 
been  doomed  for  all  these  years. 

The  order  throughout  the  entire  day  was  perfect. 
Sixteen  of  Dr.  Guerrant's  faithful  workers  were  there 
from  other  points  in  the  vicinity.  Many  of  these  are 
noble,  educated,  Christian  women,  from  many  States, 
who  are  doing  a  good  work  on  a  meagre  maintenance. 
They  were  all  present  to  rejoice  with  him  in  the  com- 
pletion of  this  building,  which  they  hope  will  mark  an 
epoch  in  the  life  of  their  work  and  the  Lord's.  While 
the  work  of  Dr.  Guerrant  is  undenominational  and  inter- 
denominational, he  himself  is  one  of  the  most  faithful 
and  industrious  workers  the  Presbyterian  Church  has 
produced  in  half  a  century.  For  thirty  years  he  has 
given  his  valuable  efforts  to  the  upbuilding  of  this  entire 
section,  and  no  man  grudges  him  the  happiness  that 
has  come  with  his  toil,  or  the  reward  that  will  greet  him 
when  it  is  ended.  These  people,  and  their  children,  are 
grateful  to  him,  and  their  blessing  will  ever  fall  upon  his 
head. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     161 


TO  THE  CHILDREN  IN  THE  CITY. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you  are  interested  in  the  little 
Mountaineers,  and  I  thought  maybe  a  line  about  these 
little  Highland  lads  and  lassies  might  be  of  some  ser- 
vice. Many  people  care  nothing  for  them,  because  they 
know  nothing  of  them.  For  more  than  forty  years  I 
have  travelled  among  them,  and  know  thousands  of 
them.  They  are  white  children.  You  hardly  ever  see  a 
negro  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains.  They  are  un- 
usually bright  children.  Mrs.  Mary  Hoge  Wardlaw, 
and,  indeed,  all  our  mission  teachers,  say  they  are  the 
brightest  children  that  they  ever  saw.  I  have  known 
many  of  them  to  memorize  three  or  four  Catechisms  in 
one  summer,  and  pages  of  the  Bible;  though  they  could 
not  read  a  word.  The  questions  and  answers  were  sim- 
ply repeated  to  them.  Many  of  them  never  saw  a 
church,  or  school,  or  Bible.  The  schools  they  have  are 
generally  very  poor,  and  many  who  go  to  them  never 
learn  to  read.  Most  of  them  are  what  are  called  "blab 
schools"  where  all  the  children  study  out  loud.  They 
are  generally  very  poor.  Many  go  barefooted  all  winter, 
and  most  of  them  never  have  a  good  suit  of  clothes 
We  send  hundreds  of  garments  to  them  every  year.  I 
have  known  some  half  grown  boys  to  have  no  garment 
but  a  long  shirt.  Some  girls  go  barefooted  until  they 
are  grown.  Their  houses  are  generally  very  poor  and 
cold,  and  only  have  one  or  two  rooms.  But,  in  spite  of 
it  all,  they  love  their  homes  and  the  mountains,  and 
cannot  be  persuaded  to  leave  them.  They  are  anxious 
to  learn,  and  walk  miles  across  mountains  and  rivers. 


162  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

I  have  seen  children  in  the  same  class  with  their  mothers 
and  grandmothers,  trying  to  learn  to  read  and  sing,  and 
memorize  the  Catechism.  They  seldom  get  any  money ; 
and  then  by  climbing  over  the  mountains,  digging  gin- 
seng, or  gathering  the  galax  leaves  to  sell.  They  all 
have  to  work  in  the  fields,  even  to  the  little  girls,  and 
their  mothers.  Some  have  no  horse  to  plow,  and  they 
cultivate  the  mountain-sides  with  a  hoe.  Thousands  o£ 
them  never  saw  a  doll,  or  heard  of  a  Christmas  tree, 
until  our  missionaries  went  among  them  and  taught 
them.  Some  of  their  native  preachers  cannot  read,  and 
the  poor  people  have  no  way  to  learn,  unless  we  send 
them  help.  We  have  been  trying  to  do  this,  by  sending 
them  good  men  and  women  to  teach  them  and  help  them 
in  every  way.  But  there  are  yet  thousands  beyond  our 
missions,  and  we  have  not  the  money  to  send  them  help. 
Though  they  are  poor  and  ignorant,  God  loves  them,  and 
Jesus  tells  us  to  go  and  tell  them  the  "good  tidings,"  and 
save  them.  He  says  that  if  we  love  and  help  them,  it 
is  the  same  as  if  we  love  and  help  Him,  and  He  will 
reward  us  with  a  kingdom  in  that  great  day  coming 
(Matt.  XXV.,  31-40).  Hoping  that  God  will  honor  you 
by  giving  you  a  part  in  this  blessed  service,  and  a  king- 
dom in  heaven  for  it." 


THE  HIGHLAND  ORPHANS'  HOME. 

Rev.  Dr.  D.  Clay  Lilly. 

The  work  of  the  Soul  Winners  Society  has  reached 
that  stage  of  development,  when  the  need  of  a  home  for 


o 


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Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    163 

the  orphan  children  of  the  Highlands  was  so  evident, 
that  some  provision  of  this  kind  could  no  longer  be 
delayed. 

The  prayer  for  means  to  do  this  was  answered,  and 
God  sent  them,  by  the  hand  of  a  generous  woman  of 
South  Carolina,  $6,000  for  the  purchase  of  a  suitable 
property  for  this  work. 

The  society,  through  the  president,  Dr.  E.  O.  Guer- 
rant,  of  \Vilmore,  Kentucky,  began  the  search  for  a 
location,  and  was  guided  to  a  particularly  well  adapted 
property  on  a  splendid  site  at  Clay  City,  Kentucky. 
Clay  City  is  a  good  location  for  the  work,  being  easily 
accessible  by  rail,  and  itself,  charmingly  set  in  the 
Red  River  Valley,  with  the  cliff-crested  mountains  round 
about.  The  site  of  the  home  is  a  tract  of  thirty  acres 
of  beautiful  plateau,  well  watered,  as  the  Red  River 
holds  it  in  on  three  sides.  It  is  close  to  the  city  school 
and  churches,  and  a  short  walk  to  the  business  district. 
It  is,  perhaps,  the  best  located  spot  in  Clay  City. 

The  main  house  is  an  unusually  well  built,  three-story 
brick  house,  such  as  a  man  of  means  would  build  for 
his  own  home  (for  it  was  built  this  way).  This  large 
house,  capable  of  accommodating  thirty  children,  to- 
gether with  its  outbuildings  and  thirty  acres  of  land,  was 
bought  at  a  very  great  bargain, 

A  neat  dining-room,  large  enough  for  the  use  of  a 
family  of  fifty,  has  been  erected  near  Irving  Hall,  the 
main  building. 

It  was  this  property,  which  a  party  of  about  twenty- 
five  from  Lexington,  Winchester,  Mt.  Sterling,  Wilmore 
and  Troy,  went  up  to  Clay  City  Thursday,  the  27th  of 
August,  to  dedicate  and  formally  open,  for  its  work  of 


164  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

ministry    to    the    needy    little    ones    of    the    southern 
mountains. 

It  was  a  day  worthy  of  the  occasion ;  bright,  sweet, 
equable.  The  people  of  Clay  City  gave  us  a  hearty 
welcome,  transferring  us  to  the  home  in  their  vehicles 
and  setting  for  us  there  a  table,  heavy  laden  with  good 
things.  May  this  cordial  expression  of  their  good  will 
be  answered  by  the  benevolent  care  which  those  else- 
where will  bestow  on  the  little  ones  gathered  in  the 
home. 

The  dedicatory  services  were  appropriate  and  im- 
pressive, consisting  of  devotional  exercises  and  remarks 
by  Drs.  Guerrant,  Irvine,  and  Lilly,  together  with  a  state- 
?*ient  by  the  excellent  matron.  Miss  Nettie  Patterson,  as 
to  their  immediate  and  prospective  needs. 

It  was  easy  to  see  the  purpose  of  the  home.  It  is  to 
minister  to  that  helpless  and  distressing  form  of  need,  an 
orphan  child.  An  orphan  child  arouses  our  sympathy 
anywhere,  but  an  orphan  child  in  a  community,  where 
church  and  school  privileges  are  inadequate,  is  an  object 
calling  for  immediate  help.  Orphanage  in  such  places 
is  sometimes  close  to  child  slavery,  for  it  happens  often, 
that  the  little  one  labors,  at  hard  work  and  long  hours, 
without  remuneration  of  any  kind,  either  in  money, 
education  or  affection.  The  home  ministers  to  such.  It 
will  not  receive  any  child  but  from  the  mountains,  and 
will  not  seek  in  the  mountains  those  who  are  already 
properly  provided  for.  Its  work  is  to  relieve  a  condition 
which  needs  to  be  met,  and  to  give  to  helpless  childhood 
a  home,  protection  from  what  would  destroy  it  and 
nourishment  for  its  true  life.     This  is  a  purpose  big 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     165 

enough  to  sustain  any  enterprise,  and  worthy  enough  to 
demand  of  us  a  place  in  our  gifts  and  our  prayers. 

In  looking  over  the  property,  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
there  were  some  present  and  pressing  needs.  Perhaps 
their  most  pressing  one  is  that  the  house  should  be 
furnished.  The  children  are  ready  for  the  home,  but  the 
home  is  not  quite  ready  for  them.  It  needs,  at  once, 
all  that  would  go  to  the  furnishing  of  a  home  to  make 
it  comfortable.  What  a  good  investment  of  a  few  dol- 
lars it  would  be  to  furnish  one  of  these  several  rooms 
and  make  it  ready  for  the  needy  little  girls  who  are 
ready  to  occupy  it.  Only  little  girls  are  to  be  received 
at  present. 

The  plan  of  the  home  contemplates  the  erection  of  a 
building  to  be  used  as  a  domitory  for  boys,  which  is 
greatly  needed,  but  until  this  is  provided,  only  girls  will 
be  received. 

Another  pressing  need,  both  of  the  immediate  present 
and  of  the  days  to  come,  namely,  food  and  raiment. 
These  dear  children  are  not  to  go  hungry.  Let  every 
one,  with  the  Lord's  money  in  keeping,  remember  that 
blue  grass  fields,  with  their  fat  cattle,  myriad  acres  of 
hemp  and  tobacco  and  wheat;  of  cotton  and  corn  and 
cane,  vast  reaches  of  timbered  hills,  filled  with  a  wealth 
of  coal  and  iron,  sleep,  basking  in  the  southern  sun; 
these  are  enough  that  no  helpless  child  need  lie  hungry 
through  the  night's  slow  moving.  And  brave  and  devoted 
men  and  women,  who  love  the  Lord,  are  the  guarantee 
that  they  will  not  be  naked  and  unclothed,  or  ahungered 
and  unfed. 

If  one  good  woman,  in  the  "City  by  the  Sea,"  has 
given   the  home,   cannot  many   good   men   and   women 


166  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

throughout  this  land  take  up  the  work  and  carry  it  on, 
thus  rendering  effective  her  gift,  as  well  as  their  own? 

One  part  of  the  church's  commission  is,  to  "feed  the 
lambs"  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  The  spirit  of  this  com- 
mand, is  much  akin  to  the  spirit  of  His  life  of  unselfish 
service.  We  cannot  be  really  like  Him,  unless  we  obey 
His  command,  that  is  so  much  like  Him. 


FEED  MY  LAMBS. 

No  one  who  ever  travelled  through  the  Allegheny  or 
Cumberland  Mountains  failed  to  notice  the  swarms  of 
bright  children  which  met  him  everywhere.  Probably 
few  ever  heard  of  a  home  for  the  scores  of  these  help- 
less children  left  orphans  amid  such  sorrowful  sur- 
roundings. Every  city  is  provided  with  such  institu- 
tions ;  but  here  is  a  vast  region  of  country,  an  empire 
of  mountains,  with  four  million  of  white  people,  and 
thousands  of  the  poorest  orphans,  with  practically  no 
place  to  save  them.  The  result  is  they  are  lost  to  their 
country  and  to  God.  To  save  the  multitudes  of  these 
bright  Highland  children  is  the  first  duty  of  both  citizens 
and  Christians.  Phillips  Brooks  well  said:  "He  who 
helps  a  child,  helps  humanity  with  a  distinctness  and  im- 
mediateness  which  no  other  help  given  to  human  crea- 
tures, in  any  other  stage  of  life,  can  possibly  give  again." 
For  years  the  cry  of  these  orphans  has  been  ringing  in 
our  ears.  For  years  we  have  prayed  and  hoped  for  help 
to  save  them.  Through  these  years  we  have  received 
some  help  from  the  hands  of  charitable  people,  but  never 
enough  to  provide  a  home ;  until,  at  last  God  inspired 


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Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    167 

a  noble  woman  to  give  us  six  thousand  dollars  to  found 
the  Highland  Orphans  Home.  We  lost  no  time  in  secur- 
ing the  best  property  for  the  purpose  in  the  Cumberland 
Mountains.  It  lies  in  the  suburbs  of  Clay  City,  on  the 
Lexington  and  Eastern  Railroad,  a  large,  substantial 
brick  residence,  with  thirty  acres  of  beautiful  land.  The 
building  is  ample  for  the  accommodation  of  thirty  chil- 
dren. It  will  be  devoted  to  the  care  of  the  orphan  girls. 
We  need  now  a  similar  home  for  the  boys,  and  a  chapel 
and  dining-hall,  with  suitable  furniture  for  them  all.  Of 
course,  this  home  will  accommodate  only  a  tithe  of  the 
poor  waifs  in  the  great  mountains.  Dr.  Campbell  says, 
"We  need  ten  such  institutions."  But  one  is  better  than 
none.  It  is  a  start,  and  God  will  provide  the  rest.  Our 
mission  teachers  report  hundreds  of  these  helpless  chil- 
dren all  through  the  vast  wilderness  of  mountains  from 
Virginia  to  Georgia. 

Already  they  are  begging  for  our  help.  Shall  they  beg 
in  vain?  Your  answer  will  determine  your  destiny  at 
the  judgment  day  (See  Matt,  xxv,  31-46).  We  want 
your  help  now  to  build  a  dormitory  and  dining-hall  this 
summer.  Every  cent  shall  go  to  this  object.  Did  God 
ever  give  a  better  opportunity  to  glorify  Him  and  enrich 
yourself?  Send  your  offering  to  the  president  of  the 
Soul  Winners'  Society,  Rev.  Dr.  E.  O.  Guerrant,  Wilmore, 
Kentucky,  or  to  the  treasurer.  Major  Robert  S.  Bullock, 
cashier  of  Fayette  National  Bank,  Lexington,  Kentucky. 

"He  that  hath  pity  upon  the  poor  lendeth  unto  the 
Lord,  and  that  which  he  hath  given,  will  He  pay  him 
again." — Prov.  xix,  17. 

"He  built  a  house;  time  laid  it  in  the  dust; 
He  wrote  a  book ;  its  title  was  forgot ; 


168  Galax  Gatheeers,  and 

He  ruled  a  city ;  but  his  name  is  not 
On  any  tablet  graven,  or  where  rust 
Can  gather  from  disuse,  or  marble  bust. 
He  took  a  child  from  out  a  wretched  cot, 
Who  on  the  State  dishonor  might  have  brought. 
And  reared  him  to  the  Christian's  hope  and  trust. 

The  boy,  to  manhood  grown,  became  a  light 
To  many  souls,  and  preached  for  human  need, 
The  wondrous  love  of  the  Omnipotent. 
The  work  has  multiplied  like  stars  at  night 
When  darkness  deepens.     Every  noble  deed 
Lasts  longer  than  a  granite  monument." 


THE  ORPHAN  CHILD. 

"My  feet  they  are  sore,  and  my  limbs  they  are  weary; 
Long  is  the  way,  and  the  mountains  so  wild ; 
Soon  will  the  twilight  close  moonless  and  dreary 
Over  the  path  of  the  poor  Mountain  child. 

"Why  did  they  send  me  so  far  and  so  lonely, 

Up  where  the  moors  spread  and  gray  rocks  are  piled  ? 
Men  are  hard-hearted,  and  kind  angels,  only. 
Watch  over  the  steps  of  the  poor  Orphan  child. 

"Yet  distant  and  soft,  the  night  breeze  is  blowing. 
Clouds  there  are  none,  and  clear  stars  beam  mild ; 
God  in  His  mercy,  protection  is  showing 

Comfort  and  hope  to  the  poor  Orphan  child. 

"Even  should  I  fall  o'er  the  broken-bridge  passing. 
Or  stray  in  the  marshes,  by  false  lights  beguiled, 
Still  will  my  Father,  with  promise  and  blessing, 
Take  to  His  bosom  the  poor  Orphan  child. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     169 

"There  is  a  thought,  that  for  strength  should  avail  me, 
Though  both  of  shelter  and  kindred  despoiled; 
Heaven  is  a  Home,  and  rest  will  not  fail  me, 
God  is  a  friend  to  the  poor  Orphan  child." 


FUNERALS  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS. 

Probably  in  nothing  are  the  Highlanders  so  peculiar 
as  in  their  burial  of  the  dead.  I  never  saw  a  graveyard 
in  a  valley.  They  bury  on  the  hills  and  sometimes  on 
the  top  of  mountains. 

They  do  not  often  have  the  funeral  at  the  time  of  death, 
but  sometimes  years  afterwards,  and  generally  in  the 
fall  of  the  year.  I  remember  once  preaching  the  funeral 
of  a  man  who  had  been  dead  fourteen  years.  This  sum- 
mer, the  funeral  of  four  soldiers,  who  died  during  the 
war,  forty-five  years  ago,  was  preached  on  the  Quicksand. 

One  old  Highlander  incorporated  it  in  his  will,  that 
such  a  service  in  his  memory  should  be  held  every  year, 
and  it  has  been  faithfully  done  for  many  years. 

The  services  often  begin  on  Friday  and  close  on  Sun- 
day evening.  All  friends  and  relatives  are  invited  to 
attend,  and  the  preaching  is  done  by  half  a  dozen  native 
preachers. 

Such  an  occasion  takes  precedence  over  every  other 
service.  Paul  himself  could  hardly  get  a  congregation  in 
the  neighborhood  of  a  Highland  funeral.  I  once  knew 
General  Howard  to  have  only  half  a  dozen  hearers  on 
such  a  day.  So  he  mounted  his  horse  and  went  to  a 
funeral  on  a  mountain-side,  where  there  were  hundreds 
of  people. 


170  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

During  the  funeral  season,  which  comes  in  the  fall  of 
the  year,  when  the  roads  and  weather  are  favorable  for 
out-door  services,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  have  other 
meetings. 

I  recently  preached  a  good  woman's  funeral,  two  years 
after  her  death,  at  the  grave,  on  a  mountain-top,  when 
her  husband  conducted  the  singing  and  other  parts  of 
the  service,  and  his  second  wife  was  present. 

Some  years  ago,  I  preached  a  man's  funeral  during  a 
protracted  meeting,  and  his  widow  and  second  husband 
and  children  sat  on  the  front  bench.  These  things  did 
not  seem  to  excite  any  comment,  for  they  were  not  much 
out  of  the  ancient  order. 


THE   BURIAL   ON   PUNCHEON   CAMP. 

Twenty-one  years  ago  I  passed  up  this  little  mountain 
stream  in  the  wild  Cumberlands.  It  was  a  week-day 
morning,  but  the  Highlanders,  warned  of  my  coming, 
filled  a  vacant  house  to  hear  the  Gospel,  where  there 
was  no  church.  Among  a  score  who  occupied  it  were 
two  beautiful  little  girls,  sisters,  clad  in  Highland  plaid. 

The  years  rolled  by,  and  they  grew  to  beautiful  woman- 
hood, married,  and  made  homes  of  their  own.  But  death, 
which  "loves  a  shining  mark,"  struck  down  one  of  them, 
and  on  Saturday  morning,  a  great  concourse  of  her 
kindred  and  friends,  laid  her  to  rest  on  a  mountain  brow, 
with  a  beautiful  babe  on  her  breast,  among  hundreds  of 
her  people. 

By  a  strange  Providence,  I  was  present,  after  twenty- 
one  eventful  years. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    171 

A  multitude  of  mourners  sat  on  the  ground  beneath  a 
great  chestnut  tree  on  that  mountain  plateau  (there  is 
no  church  in  that  country),  and  heard  the  Gospel  of  love 
preached  by  Dr.  Bryan,  of  Birmingham,  Professor  Man- 
ning and  myself.  "Proctor  Bill"  and  Louis  Hensley, 
who  taught  the  Sabbath  school  twenty-one  years  before, 
were  there,  and  led  the  singing  in  the  plaintive  melody  of 
the  Highlanders,  which  is  heard  nowhere  else. 

The  grief  of  these  simple-hearted  people  broke  forth 
in  most  pitiful  cries,  which  moved  the  oldest  and  hardest 
of  men.  Indeed,  I  never  witnessed  such  an  exhibition  of 
sorrow,  as  they  clung  to  the  coffin  and  kissed  the  cold 
silent  lips,  still  beautiful  in  death. 

On  that  wild  mountain-top,  with  God  and  the  dead 
generations  of  their  ancestors,  one  felt  nearer  to  heaven 
than  in  the  world  below. 

These  poor  people  lack  most  of  the  blessings  of  civili- 
zation, but  they  have  more  of  God  and  nature,  which  com- 
pensates for  what  they  lose  in  culture  and  comfort. 

No  people  appreciate  the  Gospel  more,  for  none  need 
it  so  much.  It  is  light  in  their  darkness,  strength  in  their 
weakness,  joy  in  their  sorrow.  To  them  it  is  really  the 
"Good  News  of  God." 


TWO  HIGHLAND  FUNERALS.— IN  THE  GREAT 

SMOKIES. 

Mrs.  Mary  O'Rear  Everett. 

"Could  you-uns  come  to  the  funeral?     They're  thar 
now."     I  was  startled  by  seeing  a  neighbor  in  the  door 


l'J'3  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

making  this  request.  I  had  heard  of  the  untimely  death 
of  an  infant,  but  this  was  the  first  hint  that  our  presence 
was  desired.  Miss  Smith  was  not  able  to  go,  so  hastily 
changing  my  dress,  and  with  a  few  directions  from  her, 
I  hurried  away  to  conduct  my  first  funeral.  I  had  an 
Episcopal  prayer-book  in  my  hand,  and  searched  for  the 
order  for  the  burial  of  the  dead,  as  I  hastened  along,  my 
heart  quaking  over  this  new  undertakng.  How  earnestly 
I  prayed  for  help;  I  do  so  desire  to  teach  these  people, 
as  shy  and  hard  to  win  as  the  wild  birds  of  the  forest^ 
almost ;  and  while  their  hearts  are  tender  in  the  presence 
of  death,  seems  a  good  time  to  win  them. 

It  was  more  than  a  mile  from  the  home  to  the  grave- 
yard on  the  hillside.  There  they  were  patiently  waiting  as 
I  drew  near.  The  school-house  was  a  few  yards  away,  and 
the  school  teacher  and  children  were  clustered  around. 
The  early  morning  sunshine  filtered  through  the  leaves. 
The  kind  neighbors  had  borne  the  little  casket  on  their 
shoulders  from  the  home,  three  miles  away,  to  lay  it 
among  its  kindred.  We  sang  "Jesus  Lover  of  My  Soul." 
The  father  sobbed  as  if  he  needed  such  a  refuge.  The 
next  week  he  must  appear  at  court.  Then  as  the  service 
proceeded,  the  Lord  strengthened  and  helped,  and  once 
more  I  proved  that  when  He  requires  anything  of  us, 
any  work.  He  gives  us  strength  to  do  it.  Just  at  the  last, 
the  casket  was  opened.  It  was  made  of  pine  just  to  fit 
the  baby,  and  covered  with  white  muslin,  fringed  around 
the  edge  of  the  lid  with  scissors.  Over  the  baby's  face 
was  a  square  of  white  cambric,  cut  in  a  fanciful  way  with 
the  scissors.  When  this  was  removed  we  saw  a  beauti- 
ful child,  very  handsome,  large  and  fine,  but  he  had 
closed  his  eyes  in  death  as  soon  as  he  had  opened  them  on 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     173 

this  earth.    And  so  we  laid  him  away  to  rest,  the  sun- 
shine, the  birds  and  the  children,  making  a  sweet  picture. 

I  urged  the  father  to  try  and  live  so  as  to  meet  his 
baby,  and  he  seemed  impressed.  He  seems  to  be  a  good 
husband  and  father,  and  brings  his  children  all  the  way 
to  Sunday  school  when  possible. 

The  next  funeral  was  that  of  the  old  man  in  the  "settle- 
ment." It  was  a  wild,  stormy  morning,  the  first  very  bad 
winter  day,  sometimes  raining  and  then  snowing,  the 
cheerless  moaning  autumn  wind  wrenching  the  last  leaves 
off  the  trees  and  whirling  them  away. 

The  yard  was  full  of  men  as  we  came  near.  The 
women  were  in  the  house,  the  doors  wide  open,  and  a  chill- 
ing wind  was  sweeping  through.  All  who  could,  were 
gathered  around  the  fire-place,  the  mothers  with  their 
little  children  and  babies.  It  was  a  dreary  looking  place 
with  uneven  puncheon  floor.  The  walls  were  dark  and 
smoky,  the  low,  grimy  ceiling  had  rags  hanging  from  the 
pieces  that  go  across,  that  brush  our  heads.  There  were 
heaps  of  rags  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  piles  of  corn 
and  barrels. 

On  the  floor,  in  the  center  of  the  room,  was  the  coffin 
made  by  friendly  hands  out  of  pine  boards,  covered  with 
black  calico  and  lined  with  white.  The  old  man  lay  there 
in  his  last,  long  sleep,  with  a  composure  and  dignity  that 
only  death  can  give.  His  long  white  beard  swept  his 
chest,  and  almost  hid  the  ornaments  that  they  had  pinned 
on  his  coat — stick-pin,  flag  and  badge,  "God  is  our  Trust 
and  Confidence."  His  overcoat  and  hat  were  laid  over 
him,  and  his  wife's  apron  was  tucked  in  at  his  feet. 

We  had  helped  by  giving  some  clothing  that  came  from 
Washington,  to  lay  him  out  in.     The  mourners  were 


174  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

gathered  near,  but  you  could  not  guess  who  they  were 
by  their  apparel.  The  nearest  mourner  was  a  niece  that 
he  had  raised,  a  woman  thirty-eight  years  old,  the  mother 
of  ten  children. 

This  time  we  had  a  good  quartette  of  singers  who  sang 
songs.  With  more  confidence,  I  went  on  with  the  service, 
telling  of  the  last  good  talk  I  had  with  "Uncle  Tom," 
when  he  expressed  himself  to  be  so  happy  to  be  so  near 
his  heavenly  home,  and  urged  the  parents  to  get  ready, 
and  train  their  children  for  that  heavenly  home.  What  a 
scene,  the  men,  outside  in  the  rain,  and  the  children 
grouped  around  the  coffin,  some  of  them  sobbing  piti- 
fully all  the  time. 

Then  the  niece  threw  herself  down  by  the  coffin  and 
wailed  and  talked  to  the  dead.  A  neighbor  began  to  sing  a 
long  dirge,  which  appeared  to  be  an  exhortation  from 
the  dead  to  the  living,  comforting  the  mourning,  exhort- 
ing the  Christian  and  warning  the  sinner.  He  chanted 
on  and  on,  till  I  wondered  when  he  would  cease.  But 
finally  he  did,  and  then  they  brought  a  hammer  and  nailed 
the  lid  on  the  coffin,  and  we  climbed  the  mountain  back 
of  the  house  to  lay  him  beside  his  faithful  wife,  who  died 
eight  months  before. 

The  wind  had  increased  to  a  hurricane  almost,  and  the 
rain  had  changed  to  sleet  and  snow.  We  had  to  make 
many  stops  to  get  our  breath.  Many  of  the  children  were 
bare-headed,  and  some  bare-footed.  The  babies  suffered 
most,  though  we  tried  to  shield  them.  The  storm  was  a 
howling  tempest  by  the  time  we  reached  the  grave,  and 
I  doubt  if  any  one  heard  a  word  of  prayer,  or  "Ashes  to 
ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  etc.  We  were  forced  to  leave  and 
seek  shelter.    If  it  was  not  for  the  mission  homes  through 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    175 

the  mountains,  many,  perhaps  most  of  the  dead,  would 
be  buried  without  a  prayer  or  comforting  passage  from 
God's  Word.  Perhaps,  you  think  the  home  I  described 
is  very  dismal ;  but  it  is  not  nearly  as  bad  as  many  that 
have  no  ceiling,  and  cracks  all  around  that  you  can  stick 
your  arm  through,  if  not  your  head.  The  door  stands 
open  the  very  coldest  days.  I  have  discovered  this 
through  visiting  this  winter. 

Now  what  can  you  and  I  do  to  help  do  away  with  this 
distress  and  sin? 


A  TOUR  THROUGH  THE  CUMBERLANDS. 

I 

On  a  hot  August  day,  I  started  to  the  Cumberlands 
through  Menefee  County.  By  a  misunderstanding  no 
conveyance  met  me  at  the  terminus  of  the  little  narrow- 
gauge  railroad.  So,  like  Paul,  "I  took  up  my  carriage" 
(knapsack  and  overcoat),  and  walked  over  the  mountain 
five  miles,  to  Frenchburg.  It  was  warm,  but  I  reached 
the  village  just  in  time  to  preach  to  a  house  crowded 
with  a  most  attentive  congregation,  including  nearly  every 
school  teacher  in  the  county,  for  the  Teachers'  Institute 
was  in  session  in  the  town. 

Things  were  mightily  changed  since  I  organized  this 
little  church  in  the  old  court-house  a  little  over  two  years 
ago.  Then,  we  had  just  light  enough  to  see  how  to  talk; 
now  a  nice  chandelier  enabled  us  to  read  without  "specs." 

Then,  the  only  organ  was  a  crying  baby;  now  a  hand- 
some organ,  skilfully  played  by  a  young  lady,  led  a  full 
chorus  of  singers. 


176  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

Then,  dear  old  Grandmother  Ward  constituted  the 
Presbyterian  Church  of  Menefee  County,  elders,  deacons, 
members  and  all;  now  a  church  of  some  seventy-five 
members,  with  some  faithful  officers,  assist  the  old  lady 
in  holding  up  the  Cross  above  the  mountains.  This  is 
the  "Alexander  Memorial  Church,"  named  in  honor  of 
its  generous  elder  patron. 

The  next  morning  Brother  Mickel  and  I  talked  to  the 
Teachers'  Institute  by  invitation,  and  as  we  had  both 
been  pedagogues,  we  felt  at  home  with  the  "rule  and  the 
ferule."  The  Institute  was  composed  of  a  fine  body  of 
young  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  was  presided  over  by 
a  prince  of  teachers,  Professor  Hayes.  At  12  M.  Brother 
Mickel  and  I  started  on  to  Hazel  Green,  in  Wolfe 
County,  to  meet  an  appointment  that  night. 

The  little  mountain  "hack"  was  too  full  to  take  us  up 
the  mountain  from  Frenchburg,  and  so  we  walked  two 
and  a  half  miles  to  the  top,  and  there  got  seats  for  the 
remaining  twenty  miles.  The  roads  were  very  rough 
and  the  day  hot,  but  we  reflected  that  both  were  more 
pleasant  than  many  that  our  fathers  knew.  The  day  was 
not  a  "fiery  furnace,"  nor  the  road  the  "Via  Dolorosa." 

Everywhere  we  noticed  the  marks  of  improvement, 
the  advance  of  a  better  civilization  among  the  mountains. 
Churches  were  going  up  along  the  road,  new  fields  opened 
and  new  houses  built,  of  a  better  construction  than  the 
old  log-cabins.  Then  we  knew  that  the  best  educator  of 
a  people  is  the  Christian  religion. 

We  reached  Hazel  Green,  the  gem  of  the  mountain 
towns,  about  dark.  This  beautiful  village  lies  in  a  great 
basin  on  the  Upper  Red  River,  with  a  rim  of  green  moun- 
tains around  it,  like  a  picture  frame.     The  good  people 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    177 

were  anxiously  awaiting  our  coming,  and  the  Nicholas- 
ville  bell  summoned  a  full  house  to  hear  Brother  Mickel, 
their  former  pastor,  preach  a  good  sermon.  Everybody 
here  loves  him  for  his  own  sake  and  his  faithful  work 
among  them. 

A  few  years  ago  there  was  only  an  unfinished  church 
in  this  pretty  town ;  now  it  has  three  handsome  and  com- 
fortable churches.  Then,  there  were  only  about  three 
Presbyterians  in  the  county ;  now,  some  fifty,  with  a  good 
organization  and  some  most  devoted  members.  This 
little  vine  owes  very  much  to  the  faithful  efiforts  and 
earnest  prayers  of  Colonel  Robert  Samuel  and  his  de- 
voted wife.  On  her  invitation,  I  first  visited  this  field, 
and  organized  this  church  in  the  school-house.  God  will 
reward  them. 

On  Saturday  I  preached  morning  and  evening,  and 
five  women  united  with  our  church  after  the  evening 
service.  Brother  Mickel  remained  to  preach  over  the 
Sabbath,  and  I  went  on  to  Bethsalem,  in  Morgan  County, 
where  I  preached  on  the  Sabbath  to  a  congregation  too 
large  for  the  church ;  so  we  held  the  services  in  God's 
first  temple  beneath  the  spreading  branches  of  a  beautiful 
grove.  Two  years  ago,  we  had  no  church  here,  and  no 
members.  Now  we  have  a  large  comfortable  church  and 
about  fifty  members.  The  old  log  house,  without  doors, 
windows,  seats,  or  ceiling,  in  which  we  organized  the 
church,  is  now  replaced  by  a  handsome  frame  building, 
capable  of  seating  some  three  hundred  people,  built, 
owned  and  occupied  harmoniously  by  the  Baptists,  Re- 
formers and  Presbyterians.  "Behold  how  good  and  how 
pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity." 

Brother  Mickel  came  out  on  Monday,  and  the  people 


178  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

petitioned  for  three  services  a  day.  So  we  preached  at 
10  A.  M.,  3  P.  M.  and  7  P.  M.,  and  scores  of  them  walked 
(riding  is  a  luxury  to  many  up  here)  to  every  service  and 
carried  their  babies. 

Hov/  I  pity  those  poor  brethren  who  never  enjoy  such 
a  privilege  of  feeding  the  hungry. 

It  is  no  trouble  to  feed  those  who  are  not  afflicted  with 
a  kind  of  spiritual  dyspepsia.  Their  digestion  is  unim- 
paired, and  they  rejoice  in  the  strong  meat  of  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine.  These  mountain  people  make  religion  a 
matter  of  business,  instead  of  a  recreation,  as  so  many  do. 

On  Wednesday  we  had  to  leave  in  order  to  meet  our 
appointment  in  Breathitt  County.  Besides,  Brother 
Mickel,  the  former  faithful  pastor  of  these  churches,  we 
had  with  us  his  faithful  covx'orker,  Rev.  James  M. 
Little,  born  and  reared  among  these  mountains,  and 
whose  services  have  been  invaluable  to  our  cause.  He 
says  he  was  a  Presbyterian  long  before  he  ever  saw  one, 
or  heard  a  sermon  by  a  Presbyterian  preacher.  Learned 
to  be  one  by  reading  the  Bible.  I  need  not  say  he  is  a 
good  one. 

We  crossed  the  mountain  dividing  the  waters  of  the 
Red  River  from  the  Upper  Kentucky,  and  rode  down 
the  frozen  stream  to  the  North  Fork  of  Kentucky  River, 
where  Mr.  Mickel  preached  at  night  in  the  little  school- 
house  on  White  Oak,  to  a  little  company,  by  three  little 
lamps  without  chimneys.  Few  men  could  preach  such  a 
sermon  by  electric  light. 

The  night  was  dark,  the  roads  rough,  the  mountains 
high,  so  we  appointed  both  services  for  daylight,  10  A.  M. 
and  4  P.  M.  Word  having  gone  out  of  our  arrival,  the 
house  was  filled  with  an  eager,  anxious  congregation, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     179 

hungry  for  the  bread  of  life,  many  of  whom  walked 
miles  to  church.  A  year  or  two  ago  there  were  only  one 
or  two  Presbyterians  in  this  county ;  now  we  have  a 
church  of  some  seventy  members,  with  fine  officers, 
and  a  good  sum  made  up  to  build  a  house  of  worship. 


GLEN  ATHOL. 

The  following  letter  from  that  admirable  Christian 
lady,  Mrs.  Mary  Hoge  Wardlaw,  will  give  a  better  idea 
of  the  work  of  the  America  Inland  Mission  than 
volumes  of  speculation  by  strangers  to  the  work. 

For  some  twenty  years  Mrs.  Wardlaw  vv'as  a  missionary 
in  South  America,  and  by  gifts  and  graces,  is  exception- 
ally well  qualified  to  give  the  results  of  experience. 

She  is  one  of  thirty-five  such  noble  lady  teachers  sent 
and  supported  by  the  society  in  the  darkest  regions  of  the 
Cumberland  and  Allegheny  Mountains.  God  and  eternity 
alone  can  compass  the  beneficial  results  of  such  work. 
Have  you  any  part  in  it? 

"It  was  my  pleasure  to  spend  a  summer  in  the  mission 
work  of  the  Society  of  Soul  Winners,  under  Dr.  Guer- 
rant.  In  this  work,  we  lived  very  close  to  nature,  the 
nature  that  reveals  itself  in  mountain,  glen  and  forest, 
and  the  nature  that  characterizes  their  unsophisticated 
inhabitants. 

Several  mountains  converging,  formed  a  sheltered 
nook,  the  site  of  our  summer  home.  It  seemed  to  us  as 
if  a  motherly  old  mountain  had  taken  the  cottage  in  its 
lap,  and  encircled  it  with  its  arms.     All  about  us  were 


180  Galax  Gathekers^  and 

trees,  three  century-old  giant  oaks,  with  waving  shadows, 
superb  beeches,  noble  walnut  and  hickory.  Back  of  us 
a  narrow  ravine,  deepened  to  a  spring,  set  around  with 
ferns.  Climbing  up  we  reached  a  cove,  and  the  Indian 
grave,  which  crowned  the  mountain. 

In  the  afternoons,  as  we  sat  in  the  broad,  shady  porch, 
that  was  school-room,  and  living-room,  rarely  a  sound 
was  heard,  save  the  breeze  stirring  the  branches,  or  the 
notes  of  the  wood  robin,  the  cardinal  or  the  mocking  bird. 
Occasionally  a  cow,  lowing  in  the  distance,  would  be- 
speak an  owner,  or  from  the  steep  mountain  opposite,  a 
plowman's  voice  would  ring  out,  as  he  urged  on  his  horse 
at  each  precipitous  turning;  but  for  these  chance  re- 
minders of  humanity,  we  would  almost  believe  that  we 
were  dwelling  in  a  little  world  of  our  own,  and  could 
truly  say: 

"Ah,  this  peace !   I  have  no  need 
Of  friend  to  talk,  or  book  to  read." 

And  this  spot,  on  the  border  of  Breathitt,  twelve  miles 
from  Jackson,  was  the  scene  of  our  summer's  work. 

On  that  roomy  porch,  every  morning,  except  Saturday, 
the  children  gathered  for  lessons.  School  "took  up"  at 
eight,  but  by  seven  or  a  Httle  after,  the  pink  and  blue 
sunbonnets,  and  peaked  hats  began  to  stream  up  the  two 
paths  that  led  to  Glen  Athol.  Then  the  wearers  of  caps 
and  felt  hats  (few  of  the  boys  possessed  straw  ones), 
scrambled  and  scampered,  shouting  and  hallooing,  down 
the  mountain's  side.  Many  of  them  had  been  at  work 
since  daylight,  and  would  work  for  six  hours  more, 
and  that  brief  playtime  was  highly  prized.  But  at  8 
o'clock  they  took  their  seats  on  the  home-made  benches, 


Sketches  of  the  American"  Highlanders.    181 

the  girls  at  one  end  of  the  porch  and  the  boys  at  the 
other,  ready  to  enter,  with  shining,  eager  faces  into  the 
opening  exercises. 

They  sang,  each  day,  more  hymns  than  many  a  Sunday 
school,  recited  more  Catechism  and  Bible  verses,  and  all 
with  a  joy,  an  enthusiasm,  refreshing  to  the  heart  of  the 
teacher.  Then,  when  the  Bible  story  was  told,  accom- 
panied by  the  illustrated  chart  on  the  wall,  they  drank 
in  every  word,  often  leaning  forward  in  their  seats,  not 
to  lose  a  syllable,  and  asking  questions  which  proved  at 
once  their  interest  and  intelligence.  After  the  religious 
instruction,  which  consumed  fully  one-half  of  the  time, 
came  countless  reading  lessons,  with  spelling,  arithmetic 
and  geography,  and  before  separating,  another  hymn  and 
a  Bible  verse  to  go  home  on. 

A  brighter,  more  receptive  set  of  children  I  never 
taught.  The  little  mountaineers  love  school.  Their 
minds  seem  to  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  warmly  do 
their  hearts  go  out  to  those  who  impart  it.  They  seem 
never  to  have  heard  that  school  is  sometimes  considered 
a  penance.  Certainly  no  such  view  is  held  by  those  who 
attend  the  schools  established  by  Dr.  Guerrant.  They 
appreciate  the  love  that  prompts  the  sending  and  the 
going.  They  were  attentive,  respectful,  and  obedient; 
more  docile,  more  serious-minded  than  any  other  children 
I  ever  knew,  yet  merry  and  playful  at  the  right  time.  The 
little  girls  were,  many  of  them,  pretty,  and  there  were 
fine  faces  among  the  boys.  They  repaid  study,  both  as 
individuals  and  as  scholars.  Along  with  the  traits  already 
mentioned,  they  possess  a  sturdy  independence,  a  self- 
reliance,  a  faithfulness  to  duty  that  reminds  one  of  their 
Scotch  ancestry.     Many  of  the  children,  big  as  well  as 


l82  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

little,  girls  as  well  as  boys,  have  to  work  in  the  corn-fields ; 
one  might  say,  upon  the  corn  mountains.  At  one  time, 
my  school  was  slim  until  the  corn  was  "laid  by,"  that  is, 
until  it  had  received  its  second  hoeing.  Even  young  girls 
work  all  day  long,  under  the  hot  June  sun,  preserving 
nevertheless,  the  delicate  pink  and  white  of  their  com- 
plexions, which  goes  so  well  with  the  deep  mountain  blue 
of  their  eyes.  Some  of  the  girls  were  decidedly  pretty, 
attractive  and  gentle-mannered.  We  were  in  the  land  of 
"Melissy,"  "Zerildy,"  and  "Meriky"  (America),  the  land 
where  girls  frequently  marry  at  sixteen,  and  are  there- 
after pronounced  "old  women."  Often  tragic  experiences 
await  them.  As  the  mission-schools  increase,  a  larger 
number  of  sweet  and  interesting  girls  there  will  come 
under  the  beneficial  influence,  their  minds  will  be  stimu- 
lated, their  horizon  broadened,  and  marriage  will  not  be 
rushed  into  so  thoughtlessly. 

I  said  the  children  came  every  day  but  Saturday;  yet 
rarely  a  Saturday  came  without  a  gathering  of  the  little 
folks  upon  one  project  or  another.  It  might  be  milk,  or 
berries  to  sell ;  a  present  of  beans,  an  offer  to  catch,  for 
our  Sunday  dinner,  a  couple  of  our  chickens,  which 
roamed  the  mountain-side,  or  to  cut  wood  for  us.  On 
Sunday,  a  delegation  was  generally  in  waiting  to  escort 
us  to  the  "church-house,"  and  again  at  3  P.  M.  they  as- 
sembled on  the  porch,  for  our  home-Sunday  school.  They 
were  content  to  sit  silent,  gazing  and  listening,  while 
others  gave  free  expressions  to  their  quaint,  often 
pathetic  ideas  and  aspirations. 

At  the  close  of  our  summer's  work,  we  felt  that  the 
gain  had  been  ours.  We  had  spent  several  months  in  a 
pure,  invigorating  climate,  among  a  courteous,  kindly, 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     183 

generous  people.  We  learned  to  love  them,  to  enjoy  our 
intercourse  with  these  friendly,  quick-witted  moun- 
taineers, who  appreciate  beyond  its  worth,  our  labors 
for  their  children. 

The  last  day  of  school  they  begged  to  sing  all  the 
hymns  they  knew;  they  sang  them,  too,  but  the  singing 
and  the  sobbing  blended  almost  indistinguishably. 

The  workers  from  our  home  taught  in  four  different 
missions  schools,  two  of  our  number  residing  with  moun- 
tain families.  On  Sunday  there  were  five  of  us  teach- 
ing six  different  Sabbath  schools.  The  three  of  us  who 
lived  at  Glen  Athol,  teaching  twice  on  Sabbath,  the  ab- 
sent ones  at  least  once.  We  learned  of  the  workings  of 
other  missions  all  through  the  mountains,  and  every- 
where the  work  presented  the  same  characteristics. 
Everywhere  the  true-hearted  mountaineers  became 
warmly  attached  to  the  missionaries.  The  Bible  is  read, 
education  appreciated,  their  views  become  deepened, 
widened  and  spiritualized. 

It  is  the  solution  of  the  mountain  problem.  When  Dr. 
Guerrant  comes  and  preaches  straight  into  the  hearts  of 
the  people,  or  when  he  brings  other  eminent  preachers, 
they  find  intelligent,  appreciative  audiences. 

Where  the  preachers  have  not  gone,  or  can  go  but 
seldom,  this  Gospel  teaching,  day  by  day,  is  drawing  hun- 
dreds into  the  fold. 

May  all  Christian  people  combine,  as  never  before,  to 
strengthen  the  hands  and  encourage  the  hearts  of  all 
who  are  engaged  in  this  noble  and  God-given  mission  of 
winning  souls  for  Christ. 


184  Galax  Gatherers^  and 


A  UNIQUE  CONTEST. 

Three  of  the  mission  schools  in  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains had  a  big  Catechism  contest  last  month,  which  was 
a  most  interesting  and  successful  exhibition. 

During  the  spring  and  summer  they  had  studied  most 
diligently  for  the  prizes  offered  for  the  best  recitations 
of  the  Catechisms  and  Scriptures  and  singing  and  drill- 
ing. Six  excellent  lady  teachers  had  taught  the  three 
schools  with  great  earnestness  and  fidelity. 

The  contest  was  held  at  the  Central  School,  at  Crocketts- 
ville,  on  the  Middle  Fork  of  the  Kentucky  River.  The 
day  was  lovely,  and  by  8  A.  M.  crowds  of  men,  women 
and  children  began  coming  in  wagons,  on  horseback  and 
on  foot.  Some  two  hundred  and  fifty  children  came  from 
the  three  schools,  in  uniforms  made  by  their  lady 
teachers.  The  pretty  mountain  valley  was  alive  with  red 
caps  and  plaid  dresses,  and  vocal  with  shouts  and  songs 
of  merry  crowds,  who  never  saw  the  like  before.  The 
contest  was  held  in  the  Crockettsville  Presbyterian 
Church,  the  only  church  those  poor  children  ever  saw. 
Professor  Gordon,  of  Lexington,  Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr. 
Gleghorn,  evangelists,  were  the  judges. 

From  10  A.  M.  until  4  P.  M.  the  contest  waged.  It  is 
safe  to  say  such  singing  was  never  heard  in  the  mountains 
before,  nor  such  recitations  of  Scripture  and  Catechisms. 
The  schools  were  examined  in  turn,  and  each  strove  to 
out-sing  and  out-repeat  the  other.  The  performance  was 
more  remarkable  when  it  is  known  that  these  children 
never  had  a  chance  before,  and  many  of  them  could  not 


iil'. .' 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     185 

read.  It  exhibited  the  brightness  of  the  children,  and  the 
excellence  of  the  teaching. 

The  church  could  not  hold  even  the  children,  and  hun- 
dreds of  men  and  women  stood  outside  and  wondered, 
and  admired  the  strange  performance.  The  judges  were 
compelled  to  shorten  the  examinations,  which  consumed 
the  whole  day.  One  school  repeated  four  Catechisms. 
The  drill  of  the  schools  were  most  remarkable  and  inter- 
esting. They  went  through  difficult  evolutions  like 
veterans,  many  of  them  barefooted,  on  the  rocks.  They 
belong  to  a  martial  race,  the  old  Scotch  Highlanders. 
The  day  passed  off  rapidly  and  cheerfully,  with  not  a 
single  fight  over  the  contest,  a  most  remarbable  occur- 
rence in  this  country. 

The  awarding  of  prizes  was  no  easy  matter.  Each 
school  had  done  excellently  in  every  contest,  but  the 
judges  decided  that  the  Canoe  School,  taught  by  Mrs. 
Kate  Robards,  Mrs.  Stewart  and  Miss  Mary  Scrogin, 
deserved  the  prize  for  best  recitations  of  Scripture  and 
Catechism ;  the  Crockettsville  School,  taught  by  Mrs, 
Emily  and  Miss  Eliza  Gordon,  for  the  best  singing,  and 
the  Gross  Camp  School,  taught  by  Misses  Erastes  Balee 
and  Louise  Saunders,  for  the  best  drilling. 

The  prizes  were  a  handsome  banner  of  the  Cross,  forty- 
five  pounds  of  candy,  a  large  box  of  cakes  and  a  half- 
barrel  of  crackers,  and  plenty  of  lemonade.  It  was  a 
great  day  for  the  mountain  people,  and  the  children,  and 
the  church,  and  Christ.  Seeds  were  sown  which  will 
bear  fruit  in  heaven,  through  eternity. 

This  work  is  carried  on  by  the  Society  of  Soul  Win- 
ners, under  the  immediate  superintendence  of  Rev  Dr. 
Miles  Saunders,  assisted  by  Mr.  Elias  L.  Moore,  who 


186  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

preach  at  each  of  the  three  points  regularly.  The  lady 
teachers  were  sent  from  Central  Kentucky  and  supported 
by  the  society.  Dr.  Guerrant  was  present  at  the  contest 
and  greatly  enjoyed  it.  The  schools  are  still  in  progress, 
and  many  of  the  children  have  accepted  Christ.  May 
we  ask  your  prayers  and  help  in  this  great  work? 


A  WORD  FROM  PROF.  GORDON, 
Of  Lexington,  Kentucky. 

The  writer  was  one  of  a  party,  which  left  the  blue 
grass  on  one  of  the  last  days  of  sultry  August  and  hied 
away  to  the  fern-decked,  vine-clad  hills  of  Eastern  Ken- 
tucky, to  be  a  looker-on  at  a  contest  among  the  assem- 
bled clans  of  that  dauntless  region. 

The  day  seemed  to  open  propitiously  for  the  trip,  as  the 
sun  rose  bright  and  the  sky  was  clear;  but  this  fair 
promise  proved  only  a  delusion  and  a  snare.  Before  the 
afternoon  had  reached  its  turning,  the  heavens  quickly 
darkened  above  us,  and  in  a  little  while  the  bottom  seemed 
to  fall  out  of  the  reservoirs  in  the  sky,  and  the  waters 
came  down  as  they  do  at  Lodore,  and  nearly  drowned  us 
in  our  open  wagon ;  but  the  journey  came  to  an  end  with 
the  day,  and,  thanks  to  as  faithful  and  sturdy  a  pair  of 
mules  as  ever  dug  toes  into  a  mountain  road,  and  to  the 
coolness  and  skill  of  a  driver,  trained  amid  the  slippery 
slants  and  dark  declivities,  the  jolting  ledges  and  perilous 
washouts  of  that  region,  the  falling  shadows  found  us  at 
the  mouth  of  our  particular  "creek,"  and  the  quickened 
pace  of  our  faithful  dumb  servants  told  us  that  they  and 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     187' 

we  were  not  far  from  "home."  What  a  country !  What  a 
people  !  What  faithful  plucky  dumb  brutes !  It  is  worth 
the  trip  and  the  "ducking,"  many  times  over,  to  see  and 
know  them. 

Before  we  reached  our  destination,  we  were  challenged 
by  the  eager  denizens  to  turn  in  for  the  night  and  seek 
the  rest,  for  which  the  shades  of  evening  and  the  un- 
usual experiences  of  the  day,  had  fully  prepared  us. 

Next  morning  one  would  have  known,  without  previ- 
ous warning,  that  something  was  going  to  happen. 
Everybody  and  everything  was  astir  early.  Some  of  the 
people  came  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  to  a  friendly  rivalry, 
in  recitation  of  the  pure  Word  of  God,  and  of  the 
Catechisms,  and  in  the  singing  of  the  sweet  songs  of 
Zion,  followed  by  calistenics,  Delsarte  and  military  drills. 

Time  would  fail  to  tell  how  they  gathered,  on  foot, 
on  horseback,  often  riding  three  on  one  horse,  and  by  the 
wagon-load,  each  valley  contributing  its  quota  to  the 
gathering  crowd,  until  many  times  more  than  could  be 
packed  into  the  beautiful  little  church,  had  assembled  on 
the  ground,  and  time  would  fail  again,  to  half-way  tell 
of  the  contest,  how  they  sang,  and  how  they  recited  Creed, 
and  Prayer,  and  Beatitudes,  and  Pslams,  and  Catechism, 
with  a  zeal  and  intelligence,  and  gracious  rivalry,  until 
even  the  pleased  and  happy  ear  grew  weary  with  the 
effort  to  take  it  all  in,  and  the  imagination  faltered  at 
the  contemplation  of  the  possible  result  under  the  bless- 
ing of  God.  "What  will  the  harvest  be?"  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  the  writer  never  saw  or  heard  the  equal  of  that  con- 
test, a  contest  participated  in  by  all  ages-  of  both  sexes, 
from  the  piping  alto  of  the  little  tots,  scarce  out  of  swad- 
dling clothes,  through  the  sweet  soprano  of  the  lads  and 


188  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

lassies,  who  sometimes,  in  our  more  favored  lands,  feel 
themselves  above  such  occupation,  on  through  the  touch- 
ing tenor  and  deeper  bass,  which  betoken  that  the  con- 
test is  not  felt  to  be  beneath  the  participation  of  the  man- 
liest portion  of  these  primitive  communities.  The 
writer  saw  children  not  over  five  or  six  years  old,  eagerly 
joining  in  the  recitations ;  he  saw  a  mother  dandling  a 
two  months'  old  babe  aloft  on  her  hands  to  keep  it  quiet, 
while  she  kept  fully  abreast  of  the  foremost  in  the  long 
recitations,  and  he  saw,  at  least,  one  patriarch,  who 
looked  as  if  he  might  have  been  grandsire  to  most  of  the 
audience,  vieing  with  the  most  vigorous  in  making  as- 
surance doubly  sure  that  his  school  would  not  be  left 
behind  in  the  contest.  Where  else  on  earth  could  such  a 
sight  be  seen? 

And  now  the  prizes  have  been  awarded,  and  the  sun, 
hanging  far  to  the  west,  warns  the  distant  riders  that 
they  must  be  on  their  way.  After  some  touching  parting 
words,  and  a  benediction,  followed  by  three  cheers,  again 
and  again  repeated,  in  honor  of  those  who  had  been  in 
any  way  connected  with  the  pleasure  and  the  success  of 
the  occasion,  that  large  assemblage  quietly  melted  away, 
as  it  had  assembled,  with  not  one  slightest  event  to  mar 
the  almost  holy  pleasure  of  the  day. 

It  was  good  to  be  there,  and  when  the  rolling  years 
shall  bring  a  return  of  the  day,  may  the  writer  and  many 
another,  be  permitted  to  share  in  its  sacred  joy. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    189 

PENTECOST  AT  PUNCHEON  CAMP. 

Eev.  James  A.  Bryan,  BirmingTiam,  Ala. 

Early  Monday  morning,  September  the  fourteenth,  I 
left  my  work  in  Birmingham,  Alabama,  for  a  ten  days' 
preaching  tour  in  the  Cumberland  Mountians  with  Dr. 
Guerrant. 

We  spent  a  few  hours  at  the  Highland  Orphans'  Home, 
at  Clay  City,  Kentucky.  The  writer  never  saw  a  more 
beautiful  place  for  such  a  home,  and  from  what  he  saw 
of  the  work  of  ten  days  in  the  mountains,  there  never 
was  a  country  where  one  was  more  needed.  A  boys' 
dormitory  is  also  needed.  We  pray  that  God  will  inspire 
some  of  His  servants  to  supply  this  need. 

From  there  we  went  through  the  Grand  Canon  of  the 
Red  River  to  "Bloody  Breathitt"  County.  Leaving  the 
railroad  at  Oakdale,  we  rode  four  miles  across  dark 
mountains,  reaching  the  Highland  College  in  time  for  a 
prayer-meeting  in  a  cottage  of  one  of  the  lady  teachers. 
In  the  silence  of  that  evening,  far  from  my  home  and 
church,  in  that  quiet  little  mountain  cottage,  I  felt  a 
deeper  sympathy  for  the  real  missionary  than  ever  be- 
fore. O,  that  the  heart  of  the  church  could  be  touched 
by  the  spirit  of  God  to  pray  more,  and  give  more  to  send 
the  light  to  our  perishing  countrymen  !  This  is  one  of  the 
three  colleges  which  h.ave  been  established  by  the  Soul 
Winners'  Society. 

Early  Wednesday  morning,  crowds  of  poorly  clad  boys 
and  girls  gathered  from  far  and  near,  some  walking  four 


190  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

miles  to  the  school,  eager  to  learn.  The  services  were 
held  daily  at  8  A.  M.  and  3  P.  M.,  and  twice  at  night,  in 
the  chapel  of  the  college.  One  could  see  from  the  first 
service  that  the  main  object  of  this  school  was  to  save 
lost  souls  and  educate  them.  This  chapel  is  the  only 
place  for  public  worship  for  miles.  Many  of  the  parents 
and  friends  of  the  pupils  came  to  both  services. 

One  woman  told  me  that  before  the  Soul  Winners  came 
to  this  place,  there  was  no  sermon  preached  in  this  neigh- 
borhood for  eight  years.  Friday  afternoon  a  number  ac- 
cepted Christ.  Saturday  was  a  blessed  day.  God  heard 
our  prayers  and  all  rejoiced. 

On  Sabbath  the  meetings  began  at  nine,  and  continued 
throughout  the  day.  The  strongest  men  and  women  cried 
for  pardon,  and  received  it.  People  wept  for  joy  as 
friends  confessed  Christ.  Great  strong  men  would  rise 
up,  and  moved  by  God's  spirit,  would  say,  "I  believe  God, 
for  Christ's  sake,  has  pardoned  my  sins." 

Some  of  the  leading  men  of  the  neighborhood,  once 
profane  swearers  and  intemperate,  cried  out  for  pardon, 
and  enrolled  their  names  among  God's  people. 

The  man  who  gave  the  land  to  build  the  college  on  was 
saved,  and  said,  'T  thank  God  that  Dr.  Guerrant  and  you 
brought  light  here  for  us."  One  dear  little  boy,  attend- 
ing this  school  and  revival  services,  said:  "Poppy  Bill 
can  drink  whiskey  if  he  will ;  I  am  going  to  trust  Christ 
for  salvation  and  join  the  church."  Truly  this  was  the 
gate  of  heaven. 

All  this  is  of  God ;  to  Him  be  all  the  praise.  I  visited 
the  humble  homes  of  these  people  and  read  and  prayed 
with  them.  They  are  the  most  grateful  people  I  ever 
met. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     191 

One  woman,  speaking  to  me,  said:  "A  great  change 
has  come  over  "Buckeye";  he  has  not  cursed  since  last 
Friday." 

Many  of  these  children  have  the  very  brightest  minds. 
The  faithful  teachers  of  the  school  pray  with  them  and 
are  teaching  them  that  to  be  a  Christian  is  to  trust  God 
and  be  good  men  and  women.  This  whole  mountain 
neighborhood,  once  so  desperate,  is  being  transformed  by 
God,  through  the  work  of  the  Soul  Winners,  from  dark- 
ness to  light.  As  you  walk  or  ride  the  mountain  paths, 
you  hear  then  singing:  "At  the  Cross,  at  the  Cross, 
where  I  first  saw  the  light,"  and  "When  the  Roll  is 
Called  Up  Yonder,  I'll  be  There." 

Writing  in  the  yard  of  this  humble  mountaineer's 
home,  I  cannot  tell  you  of  the  beautiful  scenery.  Some 
one  has  said,  "It  is  the  fmest  East  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains." 

But  I  am  to  tell  you  of  the  souls  in  this  region,  for 
whom  Christ  died,  that  need  the  message  of  pardon  and 
peace  through  Christ.  Will  you  pray  for  them,  and  help 
these  faithful  missionaries? 


A  GIRL'S  TRIP  TO  THE  FAR  CUMBERLANDS. 

Dear  Anne: 

"I  know  you  want  to  hear  about  my  last  trip  to  the 
mountains ;  so  I  will  drop  you  a  line  while  I  rest.  Papa 
wanted  me  to  go  along  to  help  sing. 

"At  Lexington,  we  were  fortunate  to  meet  Rev.  Mr. 
Paxson  and  wife  from  Texas,  who  were  going  to  help  in 
our  missions  at  Glencairn  and  Torrent.      Mrs.  Paxson 


192  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

was  delighted  to  get  back  to  old  Kentucky,  even  to  the 
mountains.  Probably  she  will  be  glad  to  get  back  to 
Texas  after  Glencairn. 

"At  Athol  we  stopped  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Auld,  who 
were  living  in  the  cottage,  and  working  in  the  mission 
there.  They  seemed  to  be  happy,  though  it  must  have 
been  a  big  change  from  Florida,  where  the  land  is  flat,  to 
the  Cumberlands,  where  it  is  perpendicular.  Mr.  Auld 
has  had  new  shutters  put  on  the  church,  and  glass  in  the 
windows,  and  preaches  every  Sunday. 

"That  night  we  went  on  to  Elkatawa  in  an  awful  flood. 
The  creeks  got  so  high  I  couldn't  go  up  to  Miss  Withers', 
the  missionary  from  Virginia,  who  lives  half  a  mile  from 
Elkatawa,  so  a  lady  let  me  stay  with  her.  Papa  and  Mr. 
McBride  slept  on  the  floor  of  a  little  house  down  by  the 
creek.  Papa  said  it  was  a  better  bed  than  he  had  in  the 
army  in  Virginia,  but  he  is  older  now,  and  I  was  sorry 
he  didn't  have  a  bed.  Mr.  McBride,  our  missionary  here, 
is  working  away  on  Kessler  Chapel,  our  new  church.  It 
is  in  a  beautiful  situation,  overlooking  the  little  village 
and  valley,  and  surrounded  by  mountains.  It  is  the  first 
and  only  church  here.  The  Mormons  have  been  around 
here  and  some  people  joined  them.    I  think  it  is  a  shame. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  got  two  mountain  ponies 
and  started  to  Buckhorn,  twenty-six  miles  across  the 
mountains.  Mine  was  the  best  pacer,  but  so  lazy  he 
wore  me  out,  and  I  tried  to  wear  him  out.  We  passed 
Mrs.  Andrews'  mission  at  the  White  Pine.  She  and 
Mrs.  Withers  are  certainly  workers.  They  walk  all  over 
these  mountains  visiting,  teaching  and  singing  the  gos- 
pel. Up  Cane  Creek  we  met  a  wagon  between  the 
steep  mountains  and  had  to  turn  back  because  the  wagon 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.     193 

filled  all  the  road.  The  sun  rose  at  9  o'clock,  and  I 
never  saw  a  lovelier  morning-,  beneath  the  great  forest 
trees  and  vines.  On  the  top  of  Shoulder  Blade  Moun- 
tain, I  took  a  picture  of  the  miles  and  miles  of  beautiful 
mountains.  At  Miss  Ellen  Callahan's  school,  on  Shoulder 
Blade,  we  saws  lots  of  nice  children  all  dressed  in  red 
and  blue,  jumping  a  grapevine  rope.  They  were  as 
happy  as  the  children  in  Lexington,  but  had  no  church 
or  preacher.     I  was  sorry  for  them. 

Well,  we  had  a  long,  hot  ride  up  the  river  to  Canoe. 
At  Mr.  Sam.  Callahan's  we  got  a  good  dinner  and  sent 
our  horses  back  to  Elkatawa.  Charley  Callahan  got  an 
old  mule  and  a  little  wagon  and  drove  us  up  to  Crock- 
ettsville,  about  eight  miles,  along  the  beautiful  Kentucky 
River.  Crockettsville  is  only  a  post-office.  Here  I  had 
to  stop  for  want  of  a  horse,  but  papa  went  on  over  the 
mountain  to  Buckhorn  to  preach  that  night.  I  know 
he  was  tired  enough  after  such  a  ride.  He  sent  for  me 
the  next  morning.  We  had  to  climb  a  mountain  called 
Bunker  Hill,  which  was  the  worst  I  ever  saw.  At  9 
o'clock  I  reached  the  Log  College,  and  it  is  beautiful. 
It  sets  on  a  mountain  brow,  opposite  the  church  on 
Laurel  Point,  with  a  lovely  valley  between.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Murdoch  and  Mrs.  Gordon  live  nearby,  and  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Saunders  occupy  a  room  in  the  college.  I 
wish  you  could  see  those  Highland  boys  and  girls.  They 
come  jumping  out  of  the  bushes  and  crowd  the  chapel 
and  sing  for  all  they  are  worth.  You  couldn't  hear  me 
at  all.  They  have  actually  learned  to  play  croquet  and 
baseball  and  swing  on  a  flying  Dutchman. 

Papa  preached  every  nKjrning  at  8  o'clock  in  the  col- 
lege chapel,  and  at  night  in  the  church.     You  never  saw 


194  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

such  a  path  up  the  mountain  to  the  church,  before  they 
made  a  new  one.  It  was  like  climbing  a  tree.  But  they 
all  got  there  and  crowded  the  church.  I  never  saw  the 
like  of  babies,  and  they  didn't  whimper  the  whole  time. 
So  many  people  joined  the  church  (forty-three  I  believe) 
and  Mr.  Murdoch  baptized  thirty-five  at  one  time. 
Would  you  believe  it,  I  found  a  little  namesake  of  yours 
up  here  at  Mr.  Jack  Gross's,  between  two  big  moun- 
tains. They  call  her  Annie  Guerrant,  and  all  say  she 
looks  like  you.  Of  course,  she  is  a  beauty.  She  has 
three  older  sisters — Cora,  Dora  and  Delora — and  all  very 
pretty,  bright  girls. 

I  stopped  to  see  a  woman  who  weaves  blankets  on  a 
big  loom  in  the  front  porch.     It  was  a  curiosity. 

The  men  were  building  the  new  girl's  dormitory  out 
of  great  hemlock  logs,  all  sawed  square.  It  will  be 
beautiful.  This  is  the  only  college  in  this  big  country, 
and  the  people  are  very  proud  of  it.  One  day  four  hun- 
dred crowded  into  the  chapel  to  hear  the  exercises. 

Well,  we  started  home  at  6  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
on  two  mules.  You  ought  to  have  seen  me.  I  know  I 
looked  like  a  horsefly  on  that  big  mule,  but  I  stuck  to 
him,  and  he  brought  me  through  all  right.  My  valise 
handles  broke,  and  we  had  to  tie  it  on  with  a  rope.  Papa 
stopped  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cochran,  our  missionaries 
on  Turner's  Creek,  and  preached  in  Gordon  Chapel  at 
ID  o'clock.  For  a  wonder,  there  was  a  good  congrega- 
tion on  Thursday  morning.  Dr.  Saunders  came  this 
far  with  us,  and  remained  to  preach  over  Sunday. 

I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  such  a  poor  country  as  this. 
It  is  pitiful. 

Papa   stopped   and   preached   again   at   Canoe,   at   2 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    195 

o'clock,  and  we  had  to  hustle  those  mules  across  the 
mountains,  ten  miles,  to  Elkatawa  by  dark.  It  was  all 
of  thirty  miles  the  way  we  came,  and  I  didn't  have  to  be 
rocked  to  sleep  that  night.  Mr.  Arthur  McDaniel 
walked  the  whole  distance  and  beat  us  to  Elkatawa.  He 
came  to  take  the  mules  back.  I  tell  you,  these  High- 
landers are  walkers !  He  must  have  passed  us  while 
papa  was  preaching. 

Well,  I  guess  you  are  glad  we  are  back,  so  I  will  give 
you  a  rest  now. 

Grace. 


ON  THE  GRAPEVINE. 
Dear  Anne: 

You  don't  get  many  letters  from  the  mountains,  so  I 
thought  I  would  write  you  one.  Papa  promised  to 
take  me  with  him  the  next  time  he  went  to  the  moun- 
tains to  preach,  so  we  started  on  the  loth  of  July,  and 
at  Lexington  took  the  Kentucky  Union  Railroad  for 
the  mountains.  We  went  one  hundred  miles  to  Jack- 
son, in  Breathitt  County.  The  road  went  up  the  Red 
River,  where  the  big  clifTs  stand  up  on  both  sides  of  the 
road,  hundreds  of  feet  high.  Many  of  the  mountams 
have  rocks  on  top  like  domes,  bigger  than  a  church. 
They  are  grand.  The  river  was  lined  with  beautiful 
fiowers  of  ivy  and  laurel. 

I  saw  some  men  cutting  oats  with  a  big  scythe,  with 
fingers  on  it ;  papa  said  they  were  cradling.  That  was 
curious  to  me.  One  big  tree  was  growing  on  top  of  a 
big  rock.  About  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  reached 
Jackson,  on  the  north  fork  of  the  Kentucky  River.     It 


196  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

is  a  very  nice  town,  and  we  have  a  church  and  college 
there,  where  they  had  none  a  few  years  ago. 

On  Wednesday  morning  we  started  for  the  mountains 
in  Perry  County.  Mr.  Charles  Little,  papa's  friend,  went 
along  with  us,  and  took  his  niece.  Miss  Kate  Patrick, 
to  help  sing.  He  had  two  buggies ;  we  rode  in  one  and 
they  in  the  other.  Papa  brought  a  little  Estey  organ 
and  we  tied  it  on  behind  our  wagon. 

We  went  up  the  Kentucky  River  ten  miles  to  the 
mouth  of  Troublesome  Creek.  Here  we  got  into  trouble 
enough.  We  had  to  get  out  and  help  the  wagon  down 
the  rocky  stairsteps  in  the  road.  We  went  up  Trouble- 
some a  mile,  and  then  went  up  Lost  Creek  ten  miles, 
and  the  man  there  said  there  were  ten  thousand  big  saw 
logs  in  that  creek.  I  never  saw  the  like.  The  little 
houses  all  had  martin  boxes,  but  no  yard  nor  shade. 

Down  on  Troublesome  we  saw  some  ladies  bare-footed, 
and  one  old  lady  had  shoes  on  but  no  stockings,  and  one 
had  on  a  dress  shorter  than  mine.  I  guess  she  must 
have  been  an  old  maid. 

The  m^ountains  were  very  steep,  but  had  corn  growing 
on  their  sides  nearly  to  the  top.  They  can't  plow  them 
up  and  down,  but  crossways.  We  saw  coal-mines  all 
along  the  road,  just  sticking  out  of  the  mountains. 
Some  times  we  rode  over  solid  coal-beds,  and  the  big- 
gest trees  I  ever  saw  grow  along  the  creeks  and  rivers. 
They  are  awfully  big.  We  saw  a  big  boy  who  had  only 
a  shirt  on,  and  most  of  the  men  were  bare-footed,  but 
they  were  very  clever. 

When  we  went  ten  miles  up  Lost  Creek,  we  turned  up 
a  creek  called  "Ten  Mile"  Creek.  Well,  it  was  awful. 
I  thought  we  had  passed  bad  roads,  but  we  were  just 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    197 

beginning  them.  Three  men  went  along  to  cut  trees 
and  roll  logs  and  rocks  out  of  the  road.  And  such  a 
road !  over  big  rocks  and  logs  and  steep  banks,  and  deep 
holes  and  around  splash-dams.  I  thought  our  buggy 
would  be  smashed  all  to  pieces.  The  horse  pulled  one 
trace  in  two,  and  a  big  rock  broke  a  spoke  out  of  the 
buggy.  Sometimes  we  had  to  walk  and  climb.  When 
we  rode  over  the  rocks  we  couldn't  keep  our  hats  on. 
Sometimes  I  bumped  papa,  and  sometimes  he  bumped 
me.  It  was  too  funny.  Papa  got  a  man  to  lead  the 
horse  around  a  big  tree  on  the  mountain  while  he  and 
another  man  held  the  buggy.  The  horse  got  strangled, 
and  the  man  cried  out,  "Here's  a  dead  horse,"  and  scared 
me  nearly  to  death.  But  they  got  the  horses  up  and 
we  went  on  over  a  mountain  to  the  Grapevine  Creek. 
Here  we  had  a  time  getting  down  the  mountain,  the 
path  was  so  steep  and  sidelong.  Mr.  Little's  horse  went 
over  the  mountain-side;  he  jerked  him  back  and  he  fell 
down,  with  the  buggy  on  him.  Papa  and  some  men 
helped  take  him  out,  and  then  the  buggy  ran  away 
down  the  mountain  and  broke  the  shaft.  Then  they  all 
took  our  horse  out  and  got  the  buggy  down  to  the  foot' 
of  the  mountain  by  the  hardest  work. 

Papa  said  this  was  my  vacation  trip.  I  think  it  was. 
I  never  saw  as  much  in  my  life.  The  day  seemed  a 
week  long.  The  road  down  the  Grapevine  was  no  road 
at  all.  Mr.  Little  and  papa  had  to  walk  and  lead  and 
roll  the  big  logs  out  of  the  way.  It  took  us  five  hours 
to  go  seven  miles.  We  got  to  the  mouth  of  Grapevine 
about  dark,  twenty-seven  miles  by  the  road  we  came, 
and  about  forty  by  the  river,  above  Jackson.  Papa  had 
a  friend  living  there  named  Dr.  Wilson,  but  we  could 


198  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

not  get  our  buggies  to  his  house  so  we  crossed  the  river 
and  stayed  at  Mr.  Tom.  Johnson's.  They  are  very  clever 
people,  indeed.  Papa  and  Mr.  Little  went  over  the 
river  and  stayed  at  Dr.  Wilson's. 

Mr.  Sawyers,  our  missionary,  was  there.  Papa  is 
preaching  in  the  little  school-house,  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  it  is  crowded  at  lo  A.  M.  and  4  P.  M.  Miss 
Kate  Patrick  and  I  play  the  little  organ,  the  first  one 
ever  played  in  the  county  for  worship.  Emma  John- 
son has  the  only  one  in  the  county.  The  people  are 
very  clever  and  attentive,  and  most  of  them  walk  to 
church.  About  twenty-five  have  joined,  and  Mr.  John- 
son was  the  first  one,  and  one  old  man  nearly  seventy, 
and  one  real  pretty  little  girl  named  Dora  Duff.  Mr. 
Johnson  is  a  leading  man  in  the  country,  and  lives  in  the 
only  brick  house. 

We  went  swimming  in  the  river  one  evening;  it  was 
about  a  foot  deep,  and  we  had  lots  of  fun.  It  is  very 
cool,  and  very  quiet  in  these  mountains.  Sunday  we 
are  going  to  take  dinner  to  church,  and  have  an  all-day 
meeting.  Next  week  we  are  going  to  Hazard,  the  only 
town  in  Perry  County.  They  say  the  road  up  Camp- 
bell's Creek  and  down  "Forked  Mouth"  Creek  is  worse 
than  "Ten  Mile"  and  Grapevine.  I  pity  it,  if  it  is.  But 
I  guess  we  will  go  it.  Papa  is  going  to  preach  on  Big 
Creek  next  week.  When  you  get  tired  and  want  a 
vacation,  come  to  Grapevine.  The  people  will  be  glad 
to  see  you.     They  are  clever  as  can  be.     Good-bye, 

Your  sister, 

Grace. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    199 


TO  BIG  CREEK. 

Dear  Anne: 

My  last  letter  brought  you  to  the  mouth  of  the  Grape- 
vine Creek.  Well,  we  had  a  big  meeting  there  Sunday, 
from  10  A.  M.  till  5  P.  M.,  two  hours  for  dinner.  There 
was  a  crowd — the  school-house  was  packed — and  it  was 
so  hot  that  I  could  hardly  get  my  breath.  Papa  preached 
morning  and  evening ;  thirty-five  joined ;  and  he  had  to 
baptize  most  of  them,  as  they  had  never  been  baptized. 
Some  people  had  to  stand  out  in  the  rain.  Monday 
morning  we  bade  all  good-bye  and  started  to  Big  Creek. 
The  roads  were  worse  and  worse.  One  clever  man  went 
along  to  hold  the  buggy.  We  went  up  the  Kentucky 
River,  and  then  up  Campbell's  Creek  and  across  an 
awful  mountain  to  Forked  Mouth  Creek.  Oh,  me !  .\  bad 
boy  would  say  it  was  "forked  lightning."  We  got  down 
it  alive,  by  walking  and  climbing,  and  leading,  and  hold- 
ing the  buggies.  The  mountains  and  rocks  just  cov- 
ered up  the  road  entirely.  We  passed  a  little  school- 
house,  and  all  the  children  ran  out  to  see  the  buggies. 
They  were  curiosities  to  them.  One  little  boy  said  he 
lived  on  a  creek,  but  didn't  know  its  name.  He  saw  big 
rattlesnakes  up  there,  too.  One  funny  man  was  riding 
an  ox,  and  had  a  bedquilt  for  a  saddle  and  bark  for  his 
girth.  Another  man  had  an  ox  geared  up  like  a  horse, 
and  was  ploughing  him.  One  old  lady  was  carrying  her 
baby,  and  a  little  p'g  was  following  her  like  a  dog.  When 
she  stopped,  it  lay  down  at  her  feet,  (^ne  litile  lionse 
had  a  pole  put  up  in  the  yard,  and  three  l^ottles  hung 
on  its  top  for  ornaments.     There  were  no  trees  in  the 


200  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

yard.      One  lady  had  a  naked  tree  full  of  egg-shells, 
like  a  snow-ball  bush.     It  was  funny  to  me. 

Well,  after  a  hard  journey  over  mountains  and  more 
creeks,  we  reached  Big  Creek.  Papa  had  been  there 
before,  and  the  good  people  came  up  the  road  to  meet 
us.  I  never  saw  cleverer  people,  though  they  are  not 
rich,  nor  proud.  Kate  and  I  stayed  at  Mr.  Field's,  up 
on  Big  Creek,  and  Mr.  Little  and  papa  had  to  stay  down 
at  Mr.  Wiley  Couch's,  as  there  was  not  room  for  us  all 
at  one  house.  Papa  preached  in  the  school-house  four 
days,  and  twenty-seven  joined  the  church.  H,e  organized 
a  church  there.  We  met  some  nice  girls  at  Big  Creek. 
One  of  them  told  us  she  could  sing  twice  as  loud  as  we 
could,  and  I  believe  it.  We  went  fishing  and  caught 
some  nice  fish  and  ate  them.  The  people  were  so  clever, 
we  enjoyed  our  visit  there.  The  little  deaf  boy  who 
joined  the  church  before  was  there;  he  is  a  smart  boy, 
and  can  talk  a  little.  He  is  going  to  the  Institute  at 
Danville.      His  name  is  Willie  Fugate. 

On  Friday  evening  we  crossed  the  mountain,  and 
went  to  Hazard,  the  county  seat.  It  is  a  little  town  of 
about  one  hundred  people.  It  used  to  have  a  bad  name, 
because  so  many  people  were  killed  there.  It  is  better 
now.  The  Methodist  Church  is  not  quite  done-  and  ours 
is  just  begun.  The  river  runs  between  the  town  and 
the  mountains.  They  never  had  a  church  here  before. 
Papa  preached  in  the  court-house.  J\Iany  people  came 
to  church,  and  twenty-three  joined.  He  preached  in  the 
jail  one  day,  and  three  poor  prisoners  joined.  It  was  an. 
awful  place,  and  I  felt  sorry  for  them.  The  doors  were 
iron  bars,  and  big  bolts  and  locks  to  hold  them  safe.  A 
mountain  preacher  came  to  church,  and  he  had  been 


Sketches  or  the  American  Highlanders.    201 

shot  in  the  ear  by  some  bad  men.  They  said  he  killed 
their  hogs.  A  big  freshet  came  down  the  river  and 
carried  away  hundreds  of  big  saw-logs.  They  said  a 
water-spout  broke  on  a  creek  called  "Kingdom  Come," 

We  walked  up  the  river  one  day  and  met  two  men 
carrying  a  hundred  fish,  called  red  horses.  They  were 
very  pretty.  We  climbed  to  the  very  top  of  a  big 
mountain  with  Mr.  Sawyers,  and  he  said  we  could  see 
the  Cumberland  Mountains  away  off.  There  were  some 
Indian  graves  up  there.  The  mountains  were  covered 
with  trees  broken  down  by  the  big  snow  in  May.  On 
Tuesday  morning  papa  preached  at  Hazard  the  last  time, 
and  we  started,  after  dinner,  to  Jackson,  forty  miles 
away,  over  the  mountains.  They  have  no  regular  hotel 
at  Hazard.     Somebody  burned  the  hotel  up  a  year  ago. 

We  drove  twenty  miles  Tuesday  evening  down  the 
river,  up  Lot's  Creek,  and  down  Lost  Creek,  to  Mr. 
Watts',  which  we  reached  about  dark.  The  road  was 
pretty  bad.  We  were  almost  turned  over  in  Lost  Creek 
once  in  a  big  hole  full  of  big  rocks.  Mr.  Little's  har- 
ness kept  breaking,  until  he  tied  it  with  wire.  One 
clever  old  lady  said  I  looked  the  "naturalest."  I  don't 
know  what  she  meant.  Maybe  she  thought  I  favored 
papa.  When  we  played  the  organ  they  wondered  why 
we  worked  our  feet.  They  couldn't  understand  it.  But 
they  are  clever  as  they  can  be,  and  one  of  them  told 
papa  that  they  were  poor,  but  their  souls  were  worth  as 
much  as  rich  people's.  We  saw  no  churches  and  met 
few  preachers,  and  they  were  not  educated.  We  got 
up  at  4  o'clock  this  morning  and  started  to  Jackson  at 
6  o'clock,  and  by  hard  driving  reached  here  at  I2  o'clock. 


202  Galax  Gatherers^  and 

So  our  long  journey  over  the  mountains  is  ended,  and 
we  are  alive. 

Your  sister, 

Grace. 


JETT'S  CREEK. 

It  was  a  cold  day  when  I  started  to  Jett's  Creek,  and 
a  long  way ;  but  they  had  urged  so  persistently  I  could 
not  refuse.  A  hundred  miles  took  me  to  Elkatawa, 
where  I  spent  the  night  with  Brother  Evans,  the  faith- 
ful Welsh  missionary.  He  is  a  "light  in  a  dark  place" ; 
salt  that  has  not  lost  its  savor.  The  world  needs  more 
such  men,  with  the  spirit  of  the  Master. 

Six  o'clock  next  morning  found  me  on  the  way  to 
Jett's  Creek,  several  miles  from  the  railroad,  on  the  beau- 
tiful Middle  Fork  of  the  Upper  Kentucky  River.  "Proc- 
tor Bill"  met  me  at  Athol  with  a  led  horse,  and  went 
with  me  to  the  old  school-house,  on  Jett's  Creek,  where 
I  preached  at  lo  A.  M.  Saturday. 

There  is  no  church  here,  though  the  valley  is  filled 
with  people,  and  nearly  one  hundred  children  in  this  dis- 
trict alone.  They  beg  for  a  good  school  and  church, 
and  offer  all  they  are  able  to  help  build  them.  One  old 
man  with  a  big  family  and  a  grown  son,  born  blind,  said 
he  would  give  any  land  he  had  and  $150.00  to  have  a 
good  school  and  church.  The  others  were  equally  anxi- 
ous and  liberal.  I  wonder  how  they  get  any  money  in 
so  poor  and  wild  a  country.  Most  of  it  is  made  by 
hewing  out  railroad  ties  and  floating  them  down  the 
river  to  market.  Only  children  are  abundant.  I  dined 
in  a  little  two-room  house,  with  a  young  couple,  who 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    203 

had  seven,  and  I  spent  the  night  where  there  were 
twelve,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  finer  lot  of  children. 
Many  of  them  go  bare-footed  all  winter  and  some  of 
them  until  they  are  grown ;  few  of  them  are  warmly 
clad.  But  they  are  happy  and  content  and  love  their 
mountain  homes,  with  a  strange  idolatry.  I  begged  for 
one  bright  boy  out  of  seven,  in  an  open  hovel,  of  one 
room,  to  be  indignantly  refused.  He  wouldn't  go  to 
the  "palace  of  a  king."  They  must  be  saved  and  edu- 
cated at  home.  Night  found  me  far  up  on  Puncheon 
Camp,  after  preaching  at  2  P.  M.  I  crossed  the  river 
and  stopped  awhile  at  "Proctor  Bill's"  poor,  little  cabin, 
under  the  mountain,  away  from  anywhere.  I  am  glad 
generous  hands  have  given  him  help  to  provide  a  better 
home  soon.  The  Puncheon  Campers  are  aroused  to 
the  need  of  a  good  school  and  church,  and  old  Man 
Herald  gave  the  most  beautiful  site  on  the  river  for  a 
church  and  college — several  acres  at  the  mouth  of 
Puncheon  Camp.  His  son  gave  all  the  timber  to  erect 
all  the  buildings  and  $100.00  besides.  Others  were  as 
liberal.  I  have  never  known  the  Highlanders  so  enthu- 
siastic in  their  zeal  for  better  things.  They  are  begin- 
ning to  realize,  as  never  before,  their  sore  need  of  both 
education  and  religion.  The  light  is  breaking  on  this 
mid-continent  of  darkness.  They  need,  and  deserve, 
the  help  of  all  who  love  God  and  their  fellowmen.  They 
are  anxious  to  help  themselves,  and  surely  heaven  will 
help  them.      Will  it  do  it  by  your  hand? 

Early  Sunday  morning  found  us  on  the  way  to  the 
Foreign  Field  on  Jett's  Creek.  It  was  a  raw,  November 
day,  and  I  never  so  felt  the  utter  desolation  of  these 
poor,  barren  mountains,  with  the  wild  waste  of  rocks  and 


204  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

peaks  and  little  cabins.      Surely  Bryant  must  have  been 
in  such  a  country  when  he  wrote : 

"The  melancholy  days  are  come, 

The  saddest  of  the  year; 
Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods- 

And  meadows  brown  and  sere." 

The  paths  and  roads  were  full  of  people  going-  to 
church,  mostly  on  foot,  or  two  on  a  horse.  Mrs.  Little 
and  her  children  rose  at  3  A.  M.  to  get  ready  to  walk 
three  miles  to  church,  down  the  river  and  up  Jett's 
Creek.  At  10  A.  M.  the  house  was  crowded,  some 
standing  up.  Before  me  sat  old  Grandmother  Mcintosh, 
with  the  three-year-old  grandchild  in  her  arms,  over 
whose  possession  her  sixteen-year-old  son  was  killed, 
and  her  son-in-law  was  desperately  wounded  last  week. 
Oh,  for  the  Gospel  of  peace  and  good-will  in  this  coun- 
try! Whose  sin  is  it  that  they  do  not  have  it?  It  is 
somebody's.      May  God  help  you,  if  it  is  yours. 

At  2  P.  M.  the  house  was  crowded  again,  this  bleak 
November  day,  though  nine-tenths  of  the  people  walked 
home  and  back.  What  a  privilege  to  preach  to  such 
people.  When  I  was  done,  I  asked  all  Christians,  who 
had  changed  hearts  and  loved  God,  to  stand  up.  Prob- 
ably a  score  stood,  mostly  women.  I  then  asked  all 
who  wished  to  be  Christians  and  desired  to  have  changed 
hearts  and  to  love  and  serve  God,  to  stand  up ;  and  every 
one  in  the  house  stood  up.  No  man  can  read  human 
hearts,  but  I  hope  and  expect  to  meet  many  of  them 
beyond  these  desolate  mountains  in  the  Paradise  of  God. 
No  man  deserves  such  a  reward,  but  they  need  and  de- 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    205 

serve  it  as  much  as  any  I  know.  They  are  "The  Lost 
Sheep"  for  whom  the  Good  Shepherd  is  seeking. 

A  hard  ride  brought  me  back  to  Athol  by  night.  In 
a  poor,  Httle  cabin  of  one  room  and  shed,  I  found  the 
badly  wounded  man,  hopeful  of  recovery.  But  it  is 
nothing  to  the  more  grievous  wounds  Satan  is  daily  in- 
flicting on  these  immortal  souls,  for  whom  Christ  died. 

Are  you  doing  your  duty  by  them?    Search  and  see. 


THE  LUCKY  THIRTEEN.— OR  THE  LADIES' 

EXCURSION. 

They  did  not  go  to  Niagara,  or  Old  Point  Comfort, 
or  Atlantic  City ;  or  for  fun,  or  health,  or  fashion. 

This  excursion  party  was  composed  of  the  Ladies' 
Working  Society  of  the  Wilmore  Church,  Kentucky, 
and  went  to  see  and  encourage  and  help  their  poor 
brethren  in  the  mountains.  Like  Paul's  party  of  old, 
'they  took  up  their  carriages"  and  went  to  worship  in 
the  humble  temples  of  the  mountaineers.  Thirteen 
ladies  going  on  an  excursion  without  a  trunk  was  a 
"wonder  to  behold." 

So  they  went  with  only  such  baggage  as  they  could 
carry  in  their  hands.  It  was  the  first,  and,  so  far  as  I 
know,  the  only  excursion  of  the  kind.  They  went  over 
the  new  and  beautiful  route  of  the  Kentucky  Union  Rail- 
road, from  Lexington,  which  penetrates  the  heart  of  the 
Kentucky  Mountains.  They  took  a  preacher  along,  to 
be  certain  of  having  preaching.  This  was  a  new  feature 
of  excursion  parties. 

Their  first  stop  was  at  Stanton,  the  quiet,  cosy  capital 


206  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

of  Powell  County,  in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Red 
River.  Here  Rev.  Andrew  Irvine  presided  over  the  first 
and  only  Presbyterian  Church  ever  built  in  the  county, 
and  it  is  yet  in  its  infancy.  He  and  his  good  people 
gave  the  excursionists  a  royal  welcome — a  sumptuous 
supper  and  a  sermon  in  the  little  new  church.  Here  the 
ladies  spent  a  day  making  the  acquaintance  of  their  sis- 
ters and  brethren,  and  enjoying  the  sights  of  the  pretty 
mountain  village,  and  encouraging  the  little  church  with 
the  assurance  of  brotherly  (or  sisterly)  love  and  sym- 
pathy. 

From  Stanton  they  went  up  the  romantic  Red  River, 
through  one  continuous  canon  of  overhanging  clififs, 
and  under  a  mountain  to  the  Kentucky  River,  thence 
down  the  river  to  Beattyville,  the  county  seat  of  Lee, 
on  her  seven  hills,  overlooking  the  three  forks  of  the 
river.  Here  they  arrived  at  6  P.  M,,  and  at  8  P.  M. 
had  another  sermon  from  their  preacher,  in  the  court- 
house. Rev.  Alexander  Henry,  the  pastor  of  the  first 
Presbyterian  Church  in  the  city,  received  them,  most 
cordially,  with  his  people,  and  entertained  them  until  the 
next  evening.  During  the  day,  they  saw  the  sights  of 
the  Gate  City  of  the  mountains,  visited  many  of  the 
church  members,  enjoyed  their  Christian  hospitality,  and 
rejoiced  with  them  over  their  new  church  being  built. 
At  4  P.  M.  they  resumed  their  journey,  by  boat  and 
rail,  to  Athol,  on  the  border  of  "Bloody  Breathitt" — no 
longer  bloody,  but  blessed  with  the  blood-bought  salva- 
tion of  Jesus.  Here  they  spent  the  Sabbath,  most  of  it, 
in  the  little  new  church,  the  first  Presbyterian  Church 
ever  built  in  Lee  County,  and  which  they  had  helped  to 
build  with  their  needles. 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    207 

At  II  A.  M.  their  preacher  preached  the  dedication 
sermon.  The  house  was  filled  with  eager  listeners,  most 
all  of  whom  had  walked  for  miles  through  the  rain  and 
mud. 

There  was  not  a  wheeled  vehicle  at  the  church,  and 
but  few  horses.  The  earnest  people  prized  the  Gospel 
enough  to  walk  many  miles  to  hear  it.  And  they  were 
not  tired  out  with  the  sermon,  but  spread  a  bountiful 
dinner,  fed  all  the  multitude,  and  listened  to  another 
sermon  from  Brother  Mickel,  and  the  election  and  ordi- 
nation of  some  new  officers. 

The  excursionists  enlarged  their  liberality  and  paid 
oflf  the  debt  on  the  little  church, — and  laid  up  more 
treasures  in  heaven, — and  rejoiced  that  the  "poor  have 
the  Gospel  preached  to  them."  Probably  they  never 
spent  a  more  pleasant  or  profitable  day  than  that  under 
the  shadow  of  the  mountains,  in  the  little  church  on  the 
Twin  Creek. 

You  don't  wonder  that  ''God  came  down  to  see,"  and 
was  so  pleased  that  He  added  forty-eight  souls  to  the 
church  that  week,  and  forty-eight  jewels  to  the  Re- 
deemer's crown,  and  forty-eight  reasons  for  rejoicing  on 
earth  and  in  heaven. 

After  thanking  God  for  what  they  had  seen  and  felt 
of  His  abounding  goodness,  and  learning  something  of 
the  great  needs  of  their  poor  brethren  in  the  mountains, 
and  being  watered  themselves,  while  watering  other 
thirsty  spirits,  the  ladies  went  on  to  Jackson,  the  grow- 
ing capital  of  Breathitt  County. 

They  reached  the  little  mountain  city  about  7  P.  M., 
and  at  8  o'clock  all  went  to  church  again,  where  their 
preacher   preached    in    the    Presbyterian    Church    to   a 


208  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

crowded  house,  the  first  church  ever  built  in  the  town 
or  county,  now  with  plenty  of  company,  and  hundreds 
of  earnest  Presbyterians  where  there  were  none. 

The  good  people  of  Jackson  (and  there  are  none  bet- 
ter) received  them  in  their  homes  and  hearts,  showed 
them  their  handsome  court-house,  their  new  Presby- 
terian College  (the  first  college  in  the  mountains  of  Ken- 
tucky), and  their  many  commodious  stores  and  com- 
fortable homes. 

So  ended  the  excursion  of  the  lucky  thirteen,  the  first 
Gospel  excursion  to  the  poor  brethren  in  the  mountains. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  tell  whether  they  received  or 
communicated  the  greater  good.  God  blesses  both  the 
giver  and  the  receiver. 


FROM  THE  LOST  CREEK. 

As  you  have  probably  never  been  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, and  would  not  object  to  read  about  it,  I  will  send 
you  a  line  to  enlist  your  sympathy  and  stimulate  your 
zeal  for  those  who  dwell  in  the  land  of  the  Troublesome. 

How  significant  those  names,  and  how  naturally  and 
inevitably  they  are  associated !  Lost  Creek,  on  the  Trou- 
blesome !  How  many  thousands  live  on  these  sorrowful 
waters  who  do  not  know  whence  they  came,  nor  wither 
they  go.  But  as  this  is  not  to  be  a  sermon,  but  a  letter, 
I  will  proceed. 

We  left  home  on  Monday,  July  the  13th,  for  the  moun- 
tains of  Eastern  Kentucky.  The  first  day  brought  us  to 
Jackson,  one  hundred  miles  southeast  of  Lexington.  On 
Tuesday  morning,  ten  miles  up  the  Kentucky  River  from 


Sketches  of  the  America:^^-  Highlanders.    209 

Jackson,  brought  us  to  the  mouth  of  the  Troublesome, 
a  stream  fifty-two  miles  long-.  A  mile  up  this  swollen 
river  brought  us  to  the  mouth  of  Lost  Creek,  where  we 
pitched  the  big  tent,  in  the  rain,  to  preach  the  Gospel. 

A  flood  had  just  devastated  the  Lost  Creek  for  twenty 
miles,  washing  everything  movable  away  and  drowning 
the  teacher  at  its  mouth.  The  rain  continued  almost 
daily  for  ten  days,  so  the  ground  under  the  tent  never 
got  dry. 

Even  the  frogs  sought  refuge  in  the  houses,  and  things 
that  could  not  swim  had  a  hard  time  to  get  about.  Seven 
men  and  seven  women,  and  a  score  of  school  children, 
made  up  our  first  congregation.  The  girls  and  weather 
prospects  all  looked  blue,  but  God  smiled  away  the 
clouds  and  brought  the  people  to  church. 

My  daughter,  Grace,  and  her  companion,  Miss  Nan- 
nie McCauley,  from  Troy,  made  sweet  music  on  the 
little  organ.  Harry  Cockerham  and  Elias  Moore,  our 
mountain  boys,  helped  with  the  seating  and  the  singing. 
A  poor  fellow  died  of  typhoid  fever  nearby,  and  I 
preached  his  funeral,  in  the  yard,  to  a  big  crowd.  So 
"Billy"  Campbell's  death,  I  trust,  was  a  means  of  grace 
to  some  of  his  neighbors. 

Few  people  in  this  country  are  members  of  any  church  ; 
those  who  are,  being  mostly  Hardshell  Baptists, — clever 
and  narrow.  Only  one  lone  Presbyterian  breaks  the 
monotony  on  Troublesome.  He  is  faithful  Nathan 
Sallee,  who  joined  on  the  Quicksand  last  summer,  and 
now  lives  here. 

Owing  to  the  roads  and  the  weather,  we  had  to  hold 
both  services  by  daylight.  So  wc  began  at  9:30  o'clock 
in  the  morning  and  closed  between  4  and  5  o'clock  in 


210  Galax  Gatherees,  and 

the  afternoon,  with  a  recess  for  dinner.  During  these 
long  hours  for  ten  days  these  patient  people  sat  on  most 
uncomfortable  seats,  of  rough  planks,  to  hear  the  Gospel. 

They  were  as  well  behaved  as  any  city  congregation, 
except  the  dogs  and  babies,  which  occasionally  raised  a 
disturbance.  But  as  the  boys  and  mothers  could  not 
come  without  them,  we  "put  up"  with  a  few  dozen  for 
ten  days.  You  may  not  appreciate  the  fact,  but  this 
is  a  triumph  of  grace.  The  man  who  has  not  attained 
it  had  better  keep  out  of  the  mountains. 

Some  generous  friends  in  New  York  had  sent  me 
some  two  hundred  and  fifty  Bibles  and  Testaments, 
which  I  gave  to  all  who  had  none.  Thousands  of  tracts 
and  newspapers  were  gladly  received.  Few  people  here 
ever  get  any  newspaper,  especially  a  religious  paper. 

I  made  all  who  received  a  Bible  or  Testament  prom- 
ise to  preserve  it  and  read  it  daily.  They  received  them 
gladly,  and  I  believe  will  read  them  diligently.  My 
heart  was  moved  when  I  saw  how  many  families  were 
without  the  Word  of  God,  and  how  eagerly  they  sought 
it — some  of  them  coming  miles  over  rough  mountain 
roads  for  a  Testament. 

The  congregations  increased,  until  Sunday  the  big 
tent  was  filled,  and  after  preaching  I  gave  the  first  invi- 
tation for  all  who  had  received  Jesus  and  would  publicly 
confess  Him  to  come  forward,  and  over  one  hundred 
came  up,  not  counting  members  of  the  church. 

It  was  the  Day  of  Pentecost  on  Troublesome.  None 
had  ever  seen  the  like  before.  Most  of  them  were  men 
and  women,  and  some  well  stricken  in  years.  I  noticed 
the  absence  of  children.  Probably  they  could  not  yet 
understand  the  plainest  preaching,  not  being  accustomed 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    211 

to  it.  The  little  school-house  here  affords  the  only  place 
of  worship,  with  no  Sabbath  schools,  or  prayer  meeting, 
or  regular  preaching,  for  years. 

The  weather  continued  fearfully  hot,  with  daily  rains, 
until  Thursday.  I  had  set  that  day  to  discuss  baptism, 
as  no  meeting  here  is  complete  without  it.  It  constitutes 
the  bulk  of  most  of  them.  The  crowd  filled  every  plank 
and  many  sat  on  the  ground.  The  good  Baptist  preach- 
ers and  people  were  present  in  force,  with  a  sprinkle  of 
Methodists  and  my  lone  Presbyterian.  Brother  Shew- 
maker,  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  at  Jackson, 
and  Brother  Mann,  of  the  Methodist  Church  there,  came 
up  to-day. 

The  result  of  the  service  to-day  was  twenty-seven  con- 
fessions of  Christ;  thirteen  united  with  the  Presbyterian 
Church ;  eight  with  the  Methodist,  and  six  with  the  Bap- 
tist. Brother  Shewmaker  baptized  the  Presbyterians ;  I 
baptized  the  Methodists,  at  Brother  Mann's  request,  as 
he  was  not  ordained,  and  I  recommended  the  Baptist 
brethren  to  their  own  preachers. 

Most  of  the  people  are  hereditary  Baptists  and  are 
tenacious  of  their  inheritance,  but  their  ideas  need  refor- 
mation, sometimes.  Aunt  Ferraby  Noble  had  to  be  im- 
mersed twice,  because  the  water  in  Leatherwood  Creek 
was  not  deep  enough,  so  it  had  to  be  done  over  and 
better,  in  Troublesome. 

But  God  never  made  cleverer  people,  and  they  de- 
serve better  treatment  than  they  have  ever  received  from 
their  more  fortunate  brethren  in  the  Blue  Grass.  It  is 
a  privilege  and  pleasure  to  preach  to  people  who  walk 
miles  to  church,  and  sit  on  rough  boards  for  four  hours 
a  day,  without  a  murmur. 


212  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

It  was  a  sorrow  to  leave  them  at  last,  and  know  that 
tens  of  thousands  around  them  and  beyond  them  in 
these  interminable  mountains  were  as  hungry  as  they, 
and  even  more  destitute.  It  ought  to  move  a  heart  of 
stone.    Will  it  move  yours? 


A  TEACHER'S  LETTER. 
From  the  Highlands. 

My  Dear  Friend: 

Dr.  G.  has  just  informed  me  that  you  have  decided  to 
help  a  girl  in  our  school,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a 
satisfaction  to  you  to  know  something  about  the  college 
and  the  conditions  surrounding  it.  We  are  situated  in 
Breathitt  County,  long  notorious  for  its  deeds  of  blood 
and  its  feuds.  A  better  day  is  rapidly  coming,  however, 
for  its  people  are  strong,  virile,  attractive,  and  possessed 
of  much  native  sense.  They  have  been  wicked  and 
ignorant  from  environment,  rather  than  choice. 

They  have  many  noble  natural  qualities,  and  are  very 
lovable,  at  least  we  find  them  so.  Until  recent  years  no 
one  had  ever  penetrated  the  fastnesses  of  these  moun- 
tains with  the  Gospel,  our  beloved  Dr.  Guerrant  being 
the  first  to  come  to  them  with  the  message  of  life,  from 
the  great  country  across  the  hills.  Even  yet  only  about 
five  hundred  of  the  six  thousand  children  of  Breathitt 
County  have  ever  been  in  the  Sunday  School. 

Many  of  the  grown  people  cannot  read.     There  are 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlanders.    213 

public  schools,  but  their  administration  is  so  inefficient 
and  corrupt  that  many  are  practically  without  any  means 
of  education  at  all.  If  the  children  are  ever  educated 
and  Christianized,  it  must  be  through  mission  schools. 

A  few  of  the  people  are  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
but  a  great  many  of  them  are  wretchedly  poor.  But 
there  are  no  nice  homes,  even  among  the  better-to-do. 
A  three  or  four-room  cabin,  with  a  loft,  represents  the 
finest  type  of  a  mountain  home,  and  no  furniture  except 
the  absolute  essentials,  and  that  hand-made.  When  we 
came  here  last  July  the  wealthiest  family  on  our  creek 
had  an  organ.  Now  there  are  several.  The  majority  of 
the  cabins  have  but  two  rooms,  and  a  great  many  have 
only  one.  The  poorness  of  the  homes  arises  from  pov- 
erty and  ignorance.  I  feel  sure  there  is  enough  money 
spent  on  whiskey  in  Breathitt  County  in  two  or  three 
years'  time  to  build  a  decent  cottage  for  every  family  in 
the  county.  Thus  as  Christianity  comes  the  physical 
conditions  will  be  bettered. 

Our  school  is  called  Highland  College,  and  is  situated 
on  a  lovely  mountain  stream  called  Puncheon  Camp.  Our 
campus  of  six  acres  was  given  by  one  of  the  Highland 
men  of  the  community.  Only  a  few  years  ago  this  was 
considered  one  of  the  most  unlikely  places  on  earth  for  a 
school.  It  was  one  of  the  worst  places  in  "Bloody 
Breathitt."  His  grace  can  subdue  the  wildest  and  most 
untamed  spirits  and  make  them  sweet  and  lovable. 

There  is  a  mountain  behind  us  and  in  front  of  us,  and 
stretching  away  in  every  direction.  And  night  and  day, 
summer  and  winter,  fair  weather  and  foul,  the  mountains 
are  beautiful.    The  one  in  front  of  the  school  is  an  inspi- 


JJ14  Galax  Gatherers,  and 

ration  always.  In  summer  it  is  a  solid  mass  of  verdure, 
in  autumn  a  flaming  bouquet,  in  winter  an  imposing 
spectacle  covered  with  snow,  or  on  rainy  days  with  rip- 
pling '-ascades,  great  icicles  hanging  from  the  cliffs,  and 
sometimes,  as  to-day,  its  trees  are  coated  with  a  glassy 
mail  of  ice.  Nature  is  awful  here  at  times,  and  we  have 
had  a  terrible  winter,  but  it  is  always  romantic  and 
beautiful.  This  has  been  one  of  the  most  terrible  days 
of  the  season.  It  has  rained  and  sleeted  in  torrents  all 
day,  and  the  creeks  and  rivers  are  greatly  swollen.  The 
Kentucky  River,  just  below,  has  a  great  "tide,"  as  the 
high  waters  are  called.  A  number  of  our  pupils  crossed 
it  at  the  risk  of  their  lives  to  get  to  school  this  morning, 
and  others  walked  two  miles  in  the  sleet  and  water,  some 
with  very  poor  shoes,  too. 

We  have  suffered  much  this  winter  from  inadequate 
buildings.  We  really  have  no  dormitory.  There  are 
two  little  cabins  on  the  campus,  in  one  of  which  the 
housekeeper  lives,  in  the  other  the  assistant  teachers  and 
part  of  the  boarding  pupils.  The  cottage  in  which  we 
stay  is  a  crude  affair,  with  four  rooms  and  an  attic.  Ten 
boys  sleep  in  the  attic.  It  is  very  low  and  narrow,  and 
has  but  one  small  window.  On  all  but  the  coldest  nights 
they  have  to  keep  the  door  open  to  allow  sufficient  fresh 
air.  Downstairs,  beside  my  own  family  (my  husband, 
myself  and  little  boy),  I  keep  seven  grown  girls.  We 
could  have  had  nfty  boarders  this  year,  if  we  had  had  the 
room. 

Every  night  after  supper  they  gather  about  the  fires 
to  study  their  lessons,  and  such  interesting  groups  they 
make.      I  doubt  whether  this  letter  will  be  coherent;  I 


Sketches  of  the  American  Highlandees.    215 

have  stopped  at  least  twenty  times  to  help  with  problems 
and  parsing,  etc. 

We  have  a  nice  Sabbath  School  and  a  Christian  En- 
deavor Society  and  prayer  meeting.  Nearly  all  of  our 
boys  and  girls  take  part  in  the  meetings.  A  number  of 
them  have  become  Christians. 

There  is  now  but  little  drinking  and  no  fighting  on  our 
creek.  The  most  desperate  drunkard  in  the  vicinity,  and 
one  I  never  hoped  to  see  reclaimed,  sent  a  request  last 
week  to  be  remembered  in  the  chapel  prayers.  I  feel  con- 
fident that  a  great  work  is  before  us  here,  if  we  can  be 
provided  with  suitable  buildings.  Dr.  G.  is  trying  very 
hard  to  raise  money  to  build  us  a  dormitory  and  furnish 
it.  Some  of  our  large  pupils  have  slept  three  in  a  bed 
this  year.  I  feel  that  we  can  manage  most  any  way  for 
one  year,  to  give  our  school  a  start,  but  one  could  not 
hold  up  always  under  the  existing  conditions.  We  have 
no  private  apartm.cnt  at  all,  but  have  to  allow  all  pupils 
to  study  and  receive  all  visitors  in  the  room  where  we 
sleep.  This  is  rather  embarrassing  when  one  has  to 
make  one's  toilet,  or  when  one  is  ill.  Sometimes  men 
will  come  in  before  1  get  dressed  for  school,  and  I  have 
to  ask  them  to  go  out  until  I  fmish.  But  we  live  in 
hopes  of  better  things.  J  thought  last  Sunday  when 
another  of  our  dear  boys  gave  his  heart  to  God,  that 
these  trifling  inconveniences  are  very  little  things  com- 
pared to  the  rich  returns  which  we  get  in  our  work.  Now 
for  the  little  girl  which  we  have  chosen  for  you.  Her 
name  is  Dora,  and  she  is  thirteeen  years  old.  She  will 
be  about  the  fifth  grade.  Ilcr  fatiier  is  a  very  poor, 
deserving  young  man,  one  of  the  Christian  men  of  the 


216  Galax  Gatherers. 

community.  I  can  tell  you  more  about  her  later,  as 
since  she  has  not  been  attending  school  on  account  of  her 
poverty,  I  have  not  become  so  well  acquainted  with  her 
as  with  some  of  the  other  children.  Only  lack  of  time 
cuts  my  letter  short  in  speaking  of  these  dear  mountain 
people.      But  I  must  close. 


Index 


Page 

Alexander  Memorial  Church 176 

A  Girl's  Trip   to  the  Far   Cumberlands 191 

At   Elkatawa 83 

A    Woman's    Letter 179 

A   Flying   Visit 113 

A  Teacher's  Letter 212 

Bloody    Breathitt 152 

Burial   on   Puncheon   Camp 170 

Bethsalem    177 

Big    Sandy 54 

Brother  Trimble  of  Virginia 59,   61,   62 

Brother  Bryan  of  Birmingham 9G,  189 

Brother  King   and   Smoky 1,   113 

Brother    Harris'    Field 15,    18,    20,    23 

Burnsville    19 

Bear    Creek 117 

Crossing  Turner's  Creek  Mountain 142 

Chenowee   Mountain 73 

Catechism  Contest  at  Crockettsville 184 

Crossing  the  Big  Black  Mountain 36 

Chenowee     73 

Church  on  the  Grapevine 195 

Coming   to    Christ    Barefooted 102 

Cataloochee  in  the  Great  Smokies 104 

Dedication  of  Canoe  Church 136 

Dedication  by  Dr.  McCorkle 157 

Dedication  of  Crockettsville  Church 99 

Dan   Mcintosh 27 

Dedication  on  Haddlx  Fork 30 

Dr.    Withcrspoon 41 

Dr.  Patten's  Letter 73 


218  INDEX. 

Page 

Elkatawa    83 

Ebenezer  in  the  Great  Smokies 113 

From    Hazard 46 

From   the   Regions   Beyond 144 

Feed    My    Lambs 166 

Funerals  in   the   Highlands 169 

Funerals  in  the  Great  Smokies,  by  Mrs.  Everett 171 

Grandmother  Mcintosh  and  the  Tragedy 204 

Galax    Gatherers 1 

Gorge  of  the  Nolachucky 3 

Glencairn    6 

Gladesville    12,   13 

Glen  Athol 179 

Gran    Nobles 48 

Hazard 46 

Highland    College 156 

Highland  Orphans'  Home,  by  Dr.  Lilly 162 

Hazel    Green 176 

Highland    Wedding 33 

His    Introduction 70 

Ivy  Patch 42 

Introduction  by  Dr.  Moore VII 

Jackson,   the   Capital 46,   153 

Jake  Fields  on  Big  Creek 97 

Jack's    Church 56 

Jett's  Creek 202 

John  K.  Coit 15,  19 

KatJiileen  Askew'g  School 67 

Lewis  Hensley 32,  67,  146 

Letter  to  the  Children  In  the  City 161 

Lost    Creek 208 

Lost  Cre«k  on  the  Troublesome 210 


INDEX.  219 

Page 

Loafers'    Glory 4 

Llzzette   7 

Mr.  Murdoch 54,  85,  136,  194 

Miss  Withers  on  the  Canoe 30,  141,  151 

Mrs.  Mary  Hoge  Wardlaw 179 

Mrs.  Andrews'  Work 31 

Mac   Davis 16 

Micaville    20 

McKelway   at   Fayetteville 24 

Miss  Warren  and  Mr.  Little 114,  115 

Mormons  in  the  Mountains 119 

Mission  on  the  Canoe 132 

Mrs.   Robard's   School 132,  136,  185 

North  Carolina  Alleghanies 15 

North    Carolina   Scotch-Irish 24 

One    Woman 57 

On  the  Grapevine 195 

On  to  Big  Creek 199 

On  the   Watauga 3 

Old    Virginia   Mountains 9 

On   the   Estatoa 19 

On    the    Canoe 140 

Old   Canaan 140 

Parmlees,  The 109,  113,  116 

Preaching  at  Hazard 46 

Proctor    Bill 68 

Partridge  and  Barrett's  Trip 77,  80,  82 

Panther    Ridge 86 

Puncheon    Camp 147 

Professor   Gordon's   Account 186 

Pentecost  at  Puncheon  Camp 189 

Preaching  at  Log  College 91 

Preaching  to  the  Poor 98 


220  INDEX. 

Page 

Raven   Roost 62 

Rev.  Eugene  P.  Mickel 49,  50,  176,  177,  207 

Rev.  James  M.  Little 45,  145,  147,  178 

Rev.  James  A.  Bryan 189 

Rousseau    79 

Rev.  James  B.  Converse's  Field Ill 

Saunders,  Rev.  Miles,  D.  D 83,  92,  93,  99,  101,  135 

Stanton   and   Beattyville 205,   206 

South    Toe 21 

Shouting  on  Bear  Creek 44 

Shoulder    Blade 65 

Seminary  of  the  Great  Smokies 108,  115 

Satan  and  the  Mormons 129 

The    Troublesome 49 

Turkey   Creek 59 

The  House  that  God  Built 91 

The  Spieer  Church 144 

Twenty  Years  After  on  Puncheon  Camp 150 

The    Orphan    Child 168 

Tour  Through  the  Cumberlands 175 

The  Mountain  Children,  38,   47,  52,  60,  67,  112,  161,  162, 
164,  166,  181,  182,  185,  193. 

The  Lucky  Thirteen 205 

The  Big  Meeting 79,  180 

Tom's    Creek 12 

The  Barrows  Family 105 

Uncle    Richard    Herald 203 

Qncle  Nimrod 28 

Up  the  Chattaroi 54 

Upper  Quicksand 76 

Whitesburg    39 

Yancey  County 17 


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